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YEAR  BOOK 


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"X 


BY    MYRTLE   REED 


LOVE  LETTERS  OF  A  MUSICIAN 

LATER  LOVE  LETTERS  OF  A  MUSICIAN 

THE  SPINSTER  BOOK 

LAVENDER  AND  OLD  LACE 

PICKABACK  SONGS 

THE  SHADOW  OF  VICTORY 

THE  MASTER'S  VIOLIN 

THE  BOOK  OF  CLEVER  BEASTS 

AT  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  JACK-O'-LANTERN 

A  SPINNER  IN  THE  SUN 

LOVE  AFFAIRS  OF  LITERARY  MEN 

FLOWER  OF  THE  DUSK 

OLD  ROSE  AND  SILVER 

SONNETS  TO  A  LOVER 

MASTER  OF  THE  VINEYARD 

A  WEAVER  OF  DREAMS 


fe^ 


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l^^vU^ 


d 

•Dinioas  from  the  Writings 
\QS  Of  Mvrtle  Peed 


With  a  roreword  bv 

Jl^^g^i^'P^eea.  Glider 

Fro.  a  pencil  drawing  by^^l'  Soule  Campbell 

A  Biographical  i-.  v ti  i:    '     '    iH<  -^  vrjpreciatioa  of 
fhf  \vrilif\g.>  „.  ■■>•/ 

A\dn/  P.  Powell 


coe  liiucRccDociict   speeds 
1911 


U"--)"" 


lisdqmsD  hluoS,  .1  ^d 


^  ,    6    rn 


olT 


ThG  Mvrtle  PggcJ 
Year  boo}R 

Epigrams  and  Opinions  from  the  Writings 
and  Savings  of  Myrtle  l^eed 


With  a  roreword  bv 

Jeannette  L  Gilder 

and 

A  Biographical  Siietct\  ai\d  a  Crifical  Appreciation  of 
the  Writings  of  nvrtle  Reed  t>v 

Man/  P.  Powell 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  Work  and  London 

^be  ftnicfterbocI;ec  pxees 

1911 


Copyright,  igii 

BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


XCbe  Htnicberbochec  |pre«s.  View  |?ocfc 


FOREWORD 

npO  present  certain  thoughts  of  Myrtle  Reed,  her  views  of 
Life  2uid  Love,  between  the  covers  of  a  single  book  has 
been  the  aim  of  the  compiler  of  this  volume.  Even  her  most 
ardent  admirers  might  not  know  just  where  to  lay  their  hands 
upon  some  favourite  thought  or  expression,  and  yet  they  would 
like  to  re-read  some  passage  that  had  impressed  them,  or  quote 
it  to  a  friend.  Few  writers  of  to-day  are  more  quoted  in  letters 
between  friends  than  Myrtle  Reed,  and  to  those  who  find 
sympathetic  lines  m  her  pages  this  little  book  will  indeed  be 
a  boon. 

The  enormous  popularity  of  Myrtle  Reed  has  been  explained 
by  one  admirer  as  zirising  from  her  "  beautiful  and  helpful 
philosophy."  Another  believes  that  the  popularity  of  her  stories 
is  due  to  their  "  sweetness  and  light,"  their  wholesomeness  of 
purpose,  their  gentle  humour,  and  the  genuinely  human  touch 
that  b  their  dominant  note. 

Not  all  of  us  can  possess  as  our  own  the  dozen  volumes  that 

iii 


^iCt^  iOOO 


Myrtle  Reed  has  given  to  the  world.  To  those  who  cannot, 
this  book  will  indeed  be  a  treasure-trove.  And  even  those 
who  may  have  all  of  her  books  upon  their  shelves  will  be  glad 
to  have  this  volume  of  her  best  thoughts  on  the  little  table  by 
their  bedside,  or  in  the  work-basket,  where  it  can  be  taken  up 
at  odd  moments  to  amuse  by  its  flashes  of  wit  or  cheer  by  its 
homely  philosophy. 

JEANNETTE  L.  GlLX)ER. 

NEW  YORK. 

June  1,1911. 


IV 


Myrtle   Reed    McCullough 

September  27,  1874— August  17.  1911 

Measured  by  the  years  of  Myrtle  Reed,  how  short  her  span 
of  life ;  by  deeds,  how  countless  her  years !  But  thirty-seven  all 
told,  intense,  purposeful  years,  with  ideals  and  aspiration  nobly 
achieved  by  the  time  most  of  us  are  about  ready  to  begb  to 
live. 

Truly  they  were  busy  years,  each  one  busier  than  its  pre- 
decessor, until  the  weight  of  the  last  year  became  too  heavy — 
and  thousands  sure  now  mourning  her  untimely  end. 

But  she  has  not  left  us  quite  desolate,  for  we  are  companioned 
by  the  lovable,  cheery  children  of  her  brain,  and  in  our  hearts 
are  the  songs  she  made.  "  They  said,  '  he  feeds  on  visions,* 
and  I  denied  it  not ;  for  visions  are  the  creators  eind  feeders  of 
mankind."  So,  in  imperishable  form  we  have  Myrtle  Reed's 
visions  to  "lift  our  better  up  to  best,"  and  we  walk  hand  in 
hand  with  the  noble  characters  she  created — Miss  Ainslee, 
with  her  lavender  and  old  laces ;  lovable  Aunt  Peace,  who, 
with  all  her  warmth  of  heart  and  democracy,  still  had  a  smould- 
ering spark  of  regard  for  "  social  position ";  Col.  Kent  and 
Aunt  Francisca,  the  kindly  neighbours  of  a  lifetime  and  gentle 
folk  of  the  "  old  school ";  Dr.  Brinkerhoff,  the  true,  and  Herr 


Kaufman,  the  lovable  old  violin  master,  and  memy  others,  jom 
us  at  different  stages,  v^hile  w^e  are  not  forgetful  of  those  dear 
uncultured  ones  Vi^hose  unconscious  wit  or  homely  philosophy 
gives  us  a  merry  heart  for  our  day's  march — Miss  Mehitable, 
who  helped  the  wandering  Piper  chase  the  cobwebs  from  the 
brain  of  the  poor  woman  who  became  a  Spinner  in  the  Sun ; 
"Miss"  Mattie  (though  a  widow),  poor  little  Araminta,  and 
the  irresistible  Crosby  Twins — all  living  and  insistent  characters 
as  any  created  by  euiy  novelist  of  the  century. 

''  But  what  of  the  author  herself  ?  "  you  ask.  To  attempt 
to  convey  by  a  pen  picture  Myrtle  Reed's  complex,  contra- 
dictory, many-faceted,  lovable  nature,  is  a  difficult  task,  for  she 
was  a  composite  of  all  the  characters  she  created.  It  hd&  been 
said  that  three  forces  go  to  make  up  a  man's  personality, — • 
heredity,  training,  and  individuality.  In  the  case  of  Myrtle 
Reed,  all  three  are  very  marked  and  must  be  reckoned  with  in 
trying  to  estimate  her  character. 

By  heredity,  she  combined  the  sturdy  traits  of  the  English- 
Irish  (her  mother  was  an  Armstrong)  and  the  well-known 
characteristics  of  her  father's  New  England  ancestry.  By 
heredity,  also,  she  was  doubly  endowed  mentally,  both  parents 
being  scholars  and  writers;  the  mother,  Elizabeth  A.  Reed, 
has  the  honour  of  bemg  the  first  American  woman  made  a 
member  of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society.  Mrs.  Reed  is  the 
author  of  several  books  on  Oriental  literature,  which  are  recog- 
nised as  authorities.  She  is  also  a  member  of  the  Victoria 
Institute,  and  has  been  connected  editorially  with  publications 
issued  by  the  University  Association. 

It  would  seem  from  her  inheritance  that  Myrtle  Reed  could 

vi 


hardly  escape  becommg  a  writer,  and  yet  there  have  been  those 
as  well  endowed  who  have  not  developed  into  authors. 

The  training  or  environment  must  in  this  case  have  had  its 
influence.  When  the  little  black-eyed,  gypsy-faced  girl  made 
her  advent  into  this  world,  there  were  already  two  children 
ahead  of  her  in  the  family,  brothers  about  eight  and  ten  years 
older,  whose  idol  she  soon  became.  These  brothers  are  both 
scholarly  men,  one  of  them  bemg  a  practising  physician  and  an 
author,  the  other  a  prosperous  business  man  whose  "  margin  " 
of  life  is  devoted  to  art.  He  is  a  water-colourist  of  merit  and  2in 
etcher  and  photographer  of  note,  being  president  of  the  Chicago 
Society  of  Etchers.  These  two  brothers  were  as  proud  of  the 
budding  genius  of  their  sister  as  were  the  parents  (for  Myrtle 
was  only  eight  or  ten  when  her  first  literary  effort  was 
published),  and  they  united  with  the  parents  in  encouraging 
the  talent  of  the  little  sister  whose  capacities  they  recognised  as 
being  above  the  ordinary. 

Myrtle  often  facetiously  attributed  her  literairy  bent  to  a  brief 
sojourn  in  Indiana  "  where,"  she  said,  "  she  had  been  vaccina- 
ted with  literature  and  it  took."  She  was  bom  in  a  suburb  of 
Chicago,  Norwood  Park,  and  all  her  life  was  spent  in  that  city, 
excepting  the  three  years  in  Indiana  before  she  was  six,  and 
about  the  same  length  of  time  in  New  York  during  her  early 
womanhood.  But  back  of  the  Indiana  sojourn,  according  to 
her  own  words,  "predestination  had  a  little  something  to  do 
with  it,  for  father  said,  first  time  he  saw  me,  *Of  course  she 
will  become  cm  author,  and  I  'm  going  to  help  matters  along  by 
giving  her  a  name  that  will  look  well  in  print  * " — and  Myrtle 
she  was  accordingly  christened. 

vii 


She  was  about  ten  when  her  first  story  was  printed  in  a 
juvenile  periodical  then  published  m  Chicago — The  A  com. 
Tlie  title  was  "  James  Caesar  Evergreen  " — a  chronicle  of  the 
daily  experiences  of  a  little  coloured  boy.  The  story  was 
similar  to  many  juvenile  efforts,  but  it  so  clearly  showed  her 
nascent  power  of  characterisation  and  fund  of  humour  that  it 
marks  an  epoch  m  her  career,  auid  it  is  fondly  cherished  by  her 
parents. 

M)Ttle*s  education  was  secured  entirely  in  the  public  schools 
of  Chicago — supplemented,  of  course,  by  the  training  of  parents 
and  brothers.  She  was  graduated  from  the  West  Division 
High  School,  where  her  course  was  marked  by  high  scholarship 
and  "  iimumerable  relieving  premks."  Here  again  was  "  the 
child  the  father  of  the  man";  all  through  her  career  as  an 
author,  "  between  books "  she  relieved  the  tension  by  the 
merriest  intercourse  with  her  friends  that  a  fertile  brain  could 
devise.  All  sorts  of  amusing  entertainments  zmd  surprises  were 
originated  by  her  in  her  home,  whose  toast  was,  "  May  our 
house  always  be  too  small  to  hold  all  our  friends ! "  This  was 
usuzJly  drunk  from  a  silver  loving  cup  presented  to  Mrs. 
McCuUough  by  her  publishers  as  a  wedding  gift.  And 
"  friends  "  she  had  in  numbers — mzuiy  from  the  circle  of  the 
school-girls  who  had  shared  her  early  ambitions  amd  had 
followed  v/ith  pride  her  widening  fame  and  influence;  and 
others,  appreciative  newspaper  men  zmd  women,  who  are  so 
quick  to  discern,  and  "lend  a  hand  "  to,  unknown  geniuses — 
(and  whom  the  prosperous  author  never  forgot) ;  to  the  artist, 
the  musician,  the  actor,  and  the  author  of  note,  who  marked 
it  a  red-letter   day  in  his  calendar   whenever  he   lifted   the 

viii 


knocker  "At  the  Sign  of  the  Crossed  Flags,"  as  the  happy 
married  home  of  the  author  was  designated. 

Immediately  after  graduating,  Myrtle  Reed  began  contribu- 
ting to  newspapers  and  magazines,  but  under  an  assumed  name. 
These  contributions  were  largely  "pot-boilers,"  and,  as  the 
young  author  had  set  a  very  high  standard  for  herself,  she  would 
not  allow  her  njutne  to  appear  over  papers  with  which  she  did  not 
wish  to  be  identified.  Here  was  shown  the  good  judgment 
and  practiced  business  sense  that  marked  her  whole  career. 

Owing  to  a  nervous  breakdown  due  to  overwork  at  school. 
Myrtle  was  obliged  to  relinquish  the  college  course  that 
would  have  been  hers.  She  was  able,  however,  while  pursuing 
her  chosen  work,  to  continue  her  studies  in  her  own  time  and 
fashion.  She  began  to  contribute  deiinty  verses  to  the  Bookr 
man,  the  National,  Munsey's,  and  other  eastern  and  western 
magazines ;  these  were  printed  over  her  own  name,  and  made 
the  begirmings  of  her  literary  reputation.  At  the  same  time, 
she  was  publishing  short  stories  euid  sketches  in  these  periodi- 
cals and  others  under  an  eissumed  naune,  or  to  be  strictly 
accurate,  under  several  noms  de  plume.  Through  these  years 
she  was  working  cmd  studying  to  make  herself  what  she  had 
determined  to  become,  an  author  of  whom  her  family  would  be 
proud,  and  on  whom  her  parents  might,  if  need  be,  depend  in 
their  declining  years. 

And  this  brings  us  to  the  third  step  in  our  estimate  of  her 
unique  personality,  her  individuality.  She  was,  I  think,  the 
most  completely  dual-natured  of  any  one  I  ever  knew.  On  the 
one  side  music,  art,  poetry,  and  philosophy,  and  on  the  other  a 
rollicking,  daring,  slang-loving,  and  slemg-creating  humourist  and 

ix 


satirisL  It  is  well  she  was  endowed  with  this  lighter  side  of  her 
nature,  as  without  it  the  high  pressure  under  which  her  books 
were  all  written  would  have  ended  her  career  long  before  it  did. 

Possessing  as  she  did  so  many  attributes,  any  one  of  which 
might  have  given  her  a  measure  of  feime  and  fortune,  it  would 
have  been  so  easy  for  her  to  have  succumbed  to  a  fatal  facility 
of  expression  in  one  or  more  lines.  Her  deep  musical  feeling 
amd  sense  of  rhythm  might  have  made  her  a  good  musician  ;  her 
intense  love  of  beauty  zmd  colour  might  have  produced  a  painter 
of  no  mean  renowTi ;  but  she  wisely  chose  as  her  broadest 
channel  of  expression  the  immortality  of  the  printed  word,  mas- 
ter of  which  she  determmed  to  become.  She  had  therefore 
a  purpose  in  life,  them  which  I  know  no  greater  impulse  to 
high  living,  nor  surer  key  to  success. 

She  early  formed  em  ideal  of  true  womanhood,  and  deter- 
mined that  so  far  as  she  was  permitted  to  send  her  message, 
she  would  uphold  the  beauty  of  the  gentle,  home-loving,  and 
home-making  woman,  smd  the  beauty  of  the  true  home,  wdth 
all  that  that  word  implies. 

With  this  purpose  in  her  heart,  and  ideally  wrought  out  in 
her  first  novel.  Lavender  and  Old  Lace  (1902),  is  it  any 
wonder  that  that  book  has  long  since  paissed  its  fortieth  edition  ? 
In  all  of  her  novels  the  same  chord  was  played,  but  in  different 
keys. 

Besides  this  loyalty  to  her  sex,  the  other  most  marked  charac- 
teristics of  her  complex  individuality  were  her  love  of,  and 
capacity  for,  hard  work,  her  phenomenal  powers  of  con- 
centration, her  perennial,  effervescent  humour,  and  her  boundless 
generosity. 


She  never  knew  an  idle  minute.  While  voluntarily  doing 
the  home  work  for  the  apartment  occupied  by  her  parents  and 
herself  for  several  years  before  her  marriage  (which  she  charac- 
teristically named  "  Quality  Coop  " )  as  a  necessary  part  of 
every  woman's  education,  as  well  as  a  relief  from  her  literaury 
labours,  she  read  volummotisly ;  wrote  poems  and  short  stories ; 
conducted  in  a  monthly  magazine,  under  the  pseudonym  of 
Katherine  La  Faurge  Norton,  a  department  on  household  matters ; 
ran  in  another,  under  the  name  of  Olive  Green,  a  cooking 
serial ;  attended  lectures  and  concerts ;  gave  one,  zmd  some- 
times two  books  a  year  to  the  waiting  public ;  amd  in  between 
times  hemmed  table  linen,  and  found  relief  in,  euid  gave  infinite 
joy  to  her  friends  by  dashing  off  letters  that  would  have  pro- 
voked a  smile  from  the  sphinx.  In  a  letter  to  the  writer  about 
this  time  she  spoke  of  the  various  activities  of  "  Katherine 
La  Farge  Norton,"  "Olive  Green,"  and  Myrtle  Reed,  as 
above  narrated,  and  said,  "  Between  the  three  of  us  I  guess 
we  can  keep  the  wolf  from  Quality  Coop." 

Her  copious  reading  included  many  subjects :  fiction,  humour, 
poetry,  art,  science,  and  philosophy.  She  had  no  small 
knowledge  of  medicine,  was  well-versed  in  occult  matters,  eind 
wzis,  theoretically,  a  fine  musician,  though  the  only  instrument 
she  could  play  upon,  accordmg  to  her  own  statement,  was  the 
kitchen  range.  On  that  she  wzts  an  expert,  although  cifter  her 
marriage  she  devoted  her  time  to  her  literary  matters  and  let 
her  competent  and  faithful  maid  attend  to  the  culinary  end, 
"neither  interfering  in  the  least  with  the  other's  department." 

In  her  stories  we  discover,  to  a  certain  degree,  her  knowledge 
of,  or  rather  interest  in,  some  of  these  sciences,  and  she  pays 

xi 


high  tribute  to  the  medical  fraternity  in  the  noble  characters 
she  portrays  of  the  old-time  "  family  Doctor" — with  the  exception 
of  one,  who  practised  vivisection.  The  wrath  of  the  author 
was  on  his  head — Dr.  Dexter  (the  elder)  in  A  Spinner  in 
the  Sun.  In  this  same  book,  she  touches  upon  the  thera- 
peutic vsdue  of  music,  and  indicates  the  power  of  suggestion  m 
healmg.  In  this  story  also  she  portrays  the  beauty  of  service 
and  brotherhood,  while  the  chapter,  "  Loved  by  a  Dog,"  will 
surely  become  a  classic/ 

For  one  whose  days  were  so  full,  she  accomplished  more 
reading  than  any  one  else  known  to  the  writer,  and  absorbed 
all  that  she  read.  She  would  read  in  a  few  hours  a  book 
that  would  have  taken  the  average  "  fast "  reader  a  day  at  least, 
amd  she  could  give  you  the  gist  of  the  entire  book,  whether  it 
was  scientific  philosophical,  or  historical. 

She  possessed  rare  intuitive  powers  and  a  keenly  analytical 
mind.  She  had  strong  convictions  and  her  own  philosophy 
concerning  die  deep  things  of  life ;  but  the  merry  chatter  and 
scintillating  wit  so  obscured  her  deeper  side  that  but  few  of  her 
acquaintances  suspected  its  existence,  nor  the  well  of  poetic  and 
artistic  feeling  in  her  nature.  Hence  her  first  book.  Love 
Letters  of  a  Musician,  published  in  1 898,  soon  after  she  left 
school,  was  a  complete  surprise  to  the  majority  of  her  acquaint- 
juices.  It  was  probably  the  most  spontaneous  of  all  her  books, 
though  none  was  lacking  in  that  quality.    At  one  time,  the  author 

'  It  may  be  of  interest  to  playgoers  to  know  that  the  play  given  by 
Chauncey  Olcott  last  season,  "  Barry  of  Ballymore,"  was  a  dramatisation 
of  this  story  and  Mr.  Olcott  portrayed  the  character  of  Piper  Tom. 

xii 


forbade  the  writer's  telling  just  the  exact  number  of  days  in 
which  it  was  written,  saying  "  she  was  positively  ashamed  that 
it  was  accomplished  in  but  five  days."  But  at  this  perspective 
the  writer  feels  justified  in  giving  the  history  of  this  piece  of 
inspiration  just  as  the  author  related  it  many  years  ago :  "  I  was 
in  the  street  car  coming  home  from  the  finishing  touches  I  had 
put  in  on  a  work  of  collaboration,  tired,  and  thankful  that  the 
task  was  finished.  I  was  listlessly  leaning  back  in  my  seat  try- 
ing not  to  think  of  anything,  when,  like  a  picture  on  a  screen, 
the  title  of  my  Letters  appeared  to  me.  I  tried  to  shake  off 
the  suggestion — the  feeling  that  I  must  go  to  work  again  on 
another  story — but  I  could  not. 

"  As  soon  as  I  reached  home,  I  flew  up  to  my  room  and  to 
my  typewriter — and  before  I  could  stop  writing  I  had  written 
five  of  those  letters,  beginning  with  'April's  Lady.'  The  next 
day  two  more,  then  one,  then  five  again,  and  so  on  till  at  the 
end  of  the  feverish  five  days  the  thing  was  finished.  It  stopped 
as  suddenly  as  it  began.  I  had  no  volition  concerning  it — it 
seemed  as  though  I  had  to  write  it,  whether  I  wanted  to  or  not." 

At  this  same  period  she  was  contributing  to  Judge  (anony- 
mously)  some    very   pungent   paragraphs   under   the   caption 
'Reflections  of  a  Spinster"   (aged  about  twenty-four),  which 
later  grew  into  a  volume  published  b    1901,   The  Spinster 
Book' 

It  was  just  as  hard  for  her  friends  to  reconcile  these  witty, 
philosophical,  satirical,  yet  often  painhilly  true  reflecticms, — true 
yet  stingless, — with  the  youthful,  inexperienced  writer,  as  the 
former  Letters,  so  full  of  poetical  feeling  and  exquisite  imagery, 
with    the    fun-loving,    sparkling,    and    apparently    heart-whole 


xiu 


maiden.  No  more  exquisite  prose-poems  were  ever  written 
than  these  Letters,  and  the  Later  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician, 
and  they  form,  with  her  Sonneb  to  a  Lover,  a  permanent 
contribution  to  the  lovers '  literature  of  the  world. 

She  had,  as  some  one  said,  "  an  unerring  instinct  for  the  ex- 
quisite phrase,  and  a  delicate  touch  for  em  allegory,"  which, 
with  her  art  of  using  words  somewhat  after  the  feishion  of  notes 
of  music,  she  wove  together  into  a  melody  in  these  two 
volumes  of  Love  Letters,  which,  if  she  had  written  nothing  else, 
would  have  made  her  famous. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  know  of  the  early  struggle  for  exist- 
ence which  befel  this  first  book.  The  memuscript  was  first  sub- 
mitted to  a  locaJ  firm  of  publishers  who  rejected  it,  in  most 
discouraging  terms.  It  was  then  sent  to  several  Eastern  pub- 
lishers in  turn,  as  it  was  in  turn  rejected.  The  embryo  author 
then  became  utterly  discouraged,  2uid  sent  it  to  Ceinada  to  the 
young  mem  who  eiterward  became  her  husbemd,  telling  him  of 
her  hopelessness  concerning  it,  and  bidding  him  "  read  it,  then 
tear  it  up,  and  throw  it  into  your  waste  baisket."  He  was 
struck  by  its  beauty,  told  her  "  it  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
things  he  had  ever  read  and  that  she  must  find  a  publisher  for 
it,"  and  immediately  returned  it  to  her. 

So  successful  was  The  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician  that  the 
publishers  who  had  first  rejected  it,  afterweurd  offered  to  become 
the  publishers  of  her  future  works.  TTiis  offer  she  "  declined  wath 
thanks  " — a  phrase  with  which  she  often  made  merry  in  her  days 
of  prosperity  which  soon  came  to  her.  She  becaune  very  brave 
about  her  short-story  manuscripts,  sending  them  from  one  peri- 
odical to  another  as  fast  as  they  were  returned  to  her.     These 

xiv 


were  under  an  aissumecl  name,  and  in  due  time  she  had  acquired 
a  large  number  of  rejection  slips  of  various  sizes  and  colours, 
which  she  utilised  as  wall  covering  for  two  large  spaces  of  her 
"  den,"  "  by  way  of  acquiring  humility,"  she  said.  The  phrase 
"  returned  with  iheuiks,"  etc.,  irritated  her,  and  she  wrote  a  very 
humorous  poem,  each  stanza  of  which  ended  with  "  I  wish  they 
would  n't  thank  me  when  they  send  my  stories  back."  This 
was  widely  copied,  but  I  doubt  if  many  know  the  author's 
name. 

After  she  becaune  famous,  and  was  importuned  by  publishers 
for  short  stories,  she  had  no  small  enjojmient  over  selling  many 
of  these  rejected  stories  to  the  very  editors  who  had  once 
refused  them. 

As  this  piquant  Spinster  Book  (above  referred  to)  expressed 
the  opposite  side  of  her  unique  mentality  from  that  of  the  Love 
Letters,  so  also  did  The  Book  of  Clever  Beasts  and  At  the 
Sign  of  the  J ack-O' -Lantern,  which  followed  in  1 904  and  1 905 
respectively.  Her  Book  of  Clever  Beasts — "  Studies  in  Un- 
natural History" — is  a  clever  satire  on  some  of  the  nature 
stories  which  were  at  that  time  interesting  the  public,  and  won 
for  its  author  a  warmly  appreciative  letter  from  Theodore 
Roosevelt,  then  President. 

But,  either  these  three  books  were  not  in  her  true  vein,  or 
the  great  world  at  large  still  loves  romance,  for  the  public  does 
not  clamour  for  these  bubbling,  irrepressibly  humorous  books  as 
it  does  for  those  of  "  heart-interest."  No  other  woman  writer  has 
had  so  sure  and  steady  an  advance  sale  record  as  this  "  weaver 
of  dreams,"  who  was  always  a  lover.  Since  At  the  Sign  of 
the  Jack-O' -Lantern  she  has  published  under  her  own  name 

XV 


no  more  humorous  writings,  though,  as  she  merrily  said,  she 
"supported  half  a  dozen  pen  names,"  and  many  a  funny 
story  and  laughable  sketch  or  skit  was  turned  out  in  this  way. 

A  bit  of  her  philosophy  from  The  Spinster  Book  may  not 
come  amiss  at  this  juncture :  "  If  realism  were  actually 
real,  we  should  have  no  time  for  books  and  pictures."  .  .  . 
"  Next  to  burglars,  mice,  zmd  green  worms,  every  normal  girl  fears 
a  widow.  Courtships  have  been  upset  and  expected  proposals 
have  varnished  into  thin  air,  simply  because  a  widow  has  come 
into  the  gjune." 

Almost  simultameously  with  the  publication  of  her  first  literary 
success,  her  own  first  real  love  affair  wais  also  "published,"  a 
clever  young  Irish-Canadian,  Mr.  James  Sidney  McCullough, 
the  hero,  being  the  gentleman  before  referred  to  in  connection 
with  the  Letters. 

The  two  made  acquaintance  through  correspondence  in  their 
school  days.  Miss  Reed  was  editor  of  the  West  Division  High 
School  paper,  while  Mr.  McCullough  was  performbg  similar 
duties  for  a  Toronto  school  journal.  He  wrote — to  ask  questions 
in  regard  to  the  management  of  the  financial  part  of  the  enterprise, 
and  he  kept  on  writing.  A  romantic  cowtship  followed,  aind, 
after  six  years,  the  two  met  for  two  brief  hours.  This  time  was 
long  enough,  however,  for  Mr.  McCullough  to  secure  a  definite 
promise.  Mr.  McCullough  gave  up  his  interests  in  Toronto,  came 
to  Chicago,  and  began  business  anevf.  Their  meurriage  took 
place  October  22,  1906. 

About  this  time,  there  sprang  into  bemg  the  seiies  of  origmal  and 
unusual  cooking  articles  before  referred  to,  which  later  flowered  into 
the  set  of  ten  charming  and  helpful  cook-books,  the  Homemaker 

xvi 


Series,  bound  in  blue  and  white  gingham  and  modestly  signed 
Olive  Green.  Any  one  who  knew  Myrtle  Reed  intimately 
could  not  long  be  deceived  as  to  the  authorship  of  these  striking 
cook-books,  for  she  could  no  more  avoid  sandwiching  her  recipes 
with  her  inimitable  humour  than  the  reader  could  avoid  eating  any 
dish  prepared  from  the  recipes  contained  therein.  And  each 
prefatory  chapter  bore  the  unmistakable  earmarks  of  the  author's 
ebullient  humour — for  instance,  m  the  first  one  of  the  series, 
IVhat  to  Have  for  Breakfast,  this  paragraph  from  the  Preface  to 
the  chapter  on  Eggs  :  "  Strictly  fresh  eggs  come  from  the  country 
sometimes  with  the  date  of  their  appearance  stamped  indelibly 
in  purple  on  the  eggs.  This  is  done  by  giving  the  hens  chopped 
calendars  with  their  meals.  Care  should  be  taken,  however,  to 
furnish  this  year's  calendar.  Nobody  wants  an  egg  with  a  last 
year's  date  on  it,  and  the  error  is  likely  to  disarrange  the  diges- 
tion of  the  hen.  Eggs  flavoured  with  onions  or  tomatoes  are  se- 
cured by  turning  the  hens  into  a  neighbour's  vegetable  garden." 
One  of  the  prefaces  to  this  joyous  and  altogether  new  thing 
in  the  way  of  cook-books,  is  a  poem — "  The  Kitchen  Rubaiyat," 
wherein  are  twenty  stanzas  of  the  cleverest  parody  on  the  much- 
parodied  Rubaiyat  of  Omar,  of  which  the  first  stanza  is  here 
given : 

Wake,  for  the  Alarm  Clock  scatters  into  Flight 
The  variegated  Nightmares  of  the  Night ; 
Allures  the  Gas  into  the  Kitchen  Range 
And  pleads  for  Rolls  and  Muffins  that  are  Light. 

From  the  chapter  "  Fruits  in  Season,"  our  eye  falls  on  this : 

"  Huckleberries  " 
"  Look  the  fruit  over  carefully.     Nothing  pleases  a  fly  so 

xvii 


much  as  to  die  and  be  mistaken  for  a  hucklebeny.  Serve  with 
cracked  ice,  with  sugar  or  cream,  or  both." 

Would  n't  this  book  be  a  joy  to  a  housekeeper  who  had  kept 
house  for,  say  twenty  years,  and  who  in  all  that  time  had  en- 
joyed no  vacation  ?     There  are  such. 

An  "  Explanation  "  on  the  the  last  fly-leaf  says :  "  The  only 
excuse  the  author  sind  publishers  have  to  offer  for  the  appear- 
eince  of  this  book  is  that,  so  far  as  they  know,  there  is  no  other 
like  it."     Verily,  there  is  not. 

Two  other  books,  also  outside  her  "  heart-interest "  series,  as 
her  novels  have  been  classified,  are  Picl^-a-back  Songs,  a 
charming  book  for  the  nursery,  of  which  she  wrote  the  verses  for 
music  by  Mrs.  Eva  Cruzen  Hart  (1902);  and  eui  historical 
novel,  The  Shadow  of  Victory.  The  scene  of  this  story  is 
placed  in  the  times  of  the  little  tradmg  post  and  of  old  Fort  Dear- 
born, which  developed  into  the  City  of  Chicago.  I  have  excluded 
it  from  the  "  heart-interest "  series,  not  because  it  lacked  heart- 
interest,  but  because  the  public  itself  has  unconsciously  excluded 
one  of  the  most  compellingly  interesting  stories  of  all  the  com- 
pellmg  ones  this  gifted  woman  wrote.  The  Shadow  of  Victory 
begins  with  the  early  winter  prior  to  the  mzissacre  at  Fort  Dear- 
bom,  and  the  story  opens  in  the  house  of  John  Mackenzie,  govern- 
ment Indian  Agent,  moves  briskly  through  the  spring,  ending 
with  the  awful  massacre  on  the  hot  summer's  day.  The  romance 
is  told  in  a  dashing,  fascinating  manner,  and  is  strictly  accurate  his- 
torically, while  the  life  of  the  pioneer  frontier  post  is  reproduced 
"  with  the  fidelity  of  an  old  diary."  All  the  wonderful  skill  the 
author  possessed  in  the  description  of  nature  (and  her  skill  in  that 
direction  W2is  unsurpassed)  and  her  great  power  in  characterisa- 

xviii 


lion,  she  put  into  this  book,  with  excellent  results.  This  book 
contains  many  epigrams  like  those  which  made  The  Spinster 
Boof^  famous,  and  the  terrible  ending  in  the  massacre  does  not 
in  the  least  colour  the  book  with  sadness.  In  fact,  in  none  of 
Myrtle  Reed's  books  is  death  a  terrible  thing,  nor  does  it  envelop  ' 
us  with  gloom ;  sadness,  possibly,  for  only  a  season,  then  again 
the  duty  eind  joy  of  daily  work  is  her  lesson. 

Another  book  out  of  her  regular  vein,  is  Love  Affairs  of 
Literary  Men.  While  these  life  stories  are  old  material,  they 
are  told  in  Myrtle  Reed's  own  sprightly,  original  style,  and  the 
weight  of  the  years  has  rolled  from  them,  making  a  dainty  book 
of  crisp,  short  biographical  essays  that  carry  a  strong  appeal  to 
those  who  are  interested  in  the  personality  of  literary  men,  and 
are  delightful  reading. 

Besides  these  books,  so  briefly  mentioned,  are  her  nine  novels, 
so  well  known  and  loved,  which  have  been  designated  as  those 
of  "  heart-interest,"  whose  titles  at  once  breathe  the  dainty 
beauty  and  fragrance  of  the  volumes.  These  jure  (in  the  order  of 
their  publication) :  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician  and  Later  Love 
Letters  of  a  Musician ;  Lavender  and  Old  Lace,  The  Master's 
Violin,  A  Spinner  in  the  Sun,  Flower  of  the  Dusk.,  Old  Rose 
and  Silver,  Master  of  the  Vineyard,  Sonnets  to  a  Lover — her  one 
volume  of  poems  (though  not  all  that  she  wrote  by  any  means), 
and  A  Weaver  of  Dreams,  which,  sadly  enough,  came  from  the 
press  after  the  author's  death.  The  Sonnets  were  published  in 
1910  and  dedicated  to  her  husband. 

Thus,  we  see  that  in  thirteen  years,  beginning  with  the  publi- 
cation of  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician,  she  produced,  all  told, 
twenty-seven  books  (including  the  present  volume),  besides  the 

xix 


innumerable  short  stories  and  verses.  Each  novel  was  written 
under  the  same  stress  of  creation,  almost,  as  attended  the  produc- 
tion of  the  first,  and  after  the  last  she  suffered  a  nervous  collapse. 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  nature  rebelled  ? 

When  not  in  the  throes  of  the  completion  of  a  book,  she 
worked  systematically  at  her  desk  all  day  until  six  o'clock,  when 
her  desk  and  typewriter  were  closed  that  her  evenings  might  be 
devoted  to  her  husband  and  their  friends.  But  when  the  "  glim- 
merings "  of  a  book  took  possession  of  her,  then  she  had  no 
respite  until  the  thing  had  written  itself  out.  Usually  the  title  of 
the  book  was  the  first  thmg  that  took  shape ;  then  the  last  chapter 
with  all  the  characters  amd  situations  would  throw  itself,  as  it 
were,  upon  her  mentzJ  screen  and  for  a  time  she  had  to  construct 
her  story  backwards.  Gradually  the  story  shaped  itself,  and 
then  work  begem  at  fever  heat. 

While  VkTriting  her  romances,  she  withdrew  from  her  usual 
haunts,  occasionally  going  to  another  city,  when  she  would  notify 
her  friends  in  her  own  characteristic  fashion  that  she  was  "  going 
into  her  shell,"  by  issuing  postals  depicting  the  author's  shell  in  the 
act  of  closbg.  A  line  at  the  bottom  announced  the  date  of  her 
probable  emergence,  which  event  was  always  celebrated  by  sum- 
moning her  friends  to  "  Paradise  Flat,"  the  home  built  by  Mrs. 
McCullough  before  her  marriage.  The  keynote  of  the  home 
was  hospitality,  and  all  their  friends  joyed  in  their  joys  until  the 
last  tragic  year,  when  discerning  friends  saw  the  result  of  Mrs. 
McCullough's  over-work  and  were  apprehensive.  The  high- 
stnmg,  hypersensitive  mechanism  of  her  bram  became  unbal- 
anced. Melancholia  took  possession  of  her  with  increasmg 
frequency,  until  during  eui  absence  of  her  husbauid  on  a  business 

XX 


trip,  suddenly  life  seemed  unbearable — and  mstead  of  waiting 
for  the  grey  angel  with  the  blossoms  of  sleep  in  hand  to  gently 
touch  her,  she  fearlessly  went  out  into  the  obscure  light  to  meet 
him. 

Since  "  *T  is  not  what  man  does  which  exalts  him,  but  what 
man  would  do ! "  so  is  one's  attempted  work  of  more  importauice 
than  his  personality,  interesting  though  that  may  be. 

Myrtle  Reed  the  generous,  helpful  friend,  the  loyal  daughter 
and  wife,  has  passed  from  our  sight  down  the  unicnown  path, 
but  her  work  remains  and  its  lessons  are  manifold. 

In  her  earlier  books,  we  see  only  the  joy  of  living  and  the 
passion  for,  and  the  love  of,  Life — for  the  sake  of  Life  and  Love. 
Next,  we  feel  the  influence  of  Carlyle  and  Emerson — the 
blessedness  of  work,  and  the  duty  of  making  Life  and  Music 
out  of  that  same  work!  Not  seeking  happiness,  but  lettmg 
happiness  overtake  us  while  we  are  doing  "the  duty  next  at 
hand  " ;  while  in  her  last  books  are  the  lessons  of  Life  for  Love 
and  Service,  of  Renunciation,  and  of  Aspiration. 

One  day,  we  were  discussing  a  criticism  of  one  of  her  books 
in  which  it  was  charged  that  her  men  characters  were  not  at  all 
natural ;  that  such  men  never  did,  nor  never  could  exist,  only  as 
they  existed  in  novels  written  by  women.  "  But  even  if  it  were 
so,"  she  said,  "am  I  not  justified  in  creating  such  characters? 
I  am  not  demanding  any  more  of  my  men  characters  than  real 
men  demand  of  real  women ;  and  if  by  creating  through  my 
ideal  characters  a  standard  that  Is  above  the  real  which  ma^ 
help  in  ever  so  small  a  degree  to  elevate  the  moral  standard 
for  both  men  and  women,  have  I  not  in  so  far  benefited  my 
generation  ?  " 

xxi 


"  Then  you  hold  with  the  poet  that  '  the  reach  ever  should 
exceed  the  grasp  '  of  your  men  characters  ?  " 

"  Surely,  auid  of  my  women  as  well,  else,  as  in  real  life,  moral 
deterioration  would  set  in,  gangrene-like." 

Then  we  passed  to  another  topic,  one  of  Browning's  plays, 
and  Myrtle's  characteristic  comment  was : 

"  Robert  was  certainly  a  great  teacher,  even  if  you  do  have 
to  stay  after  school  nearly  every  night  to  learn  your  lesson ;  but 
he  vkTote  one  piece  that  I  have  no  use  for  whatever,  for  he  made 
such  a  ninny  out  of  Mildred  \_Blot  on  the  'Scutcheon].  It 
makes  me  tired  to  see  a  womem  sniffling  over  Mildred  '  as  the 
most  pathetic  character  in  all  literature  ' ;  she  was  the  biggest 
fool  I  know  in  all  literature,  and  I  have  not  a  particle  of  sympa- 
thy for  her." 

While  digressing,  as  it  is  so  easy  to  do  in  talking  of  this  mter- 
esting  character,  I  cainnot  refrain  from  illustrating  another  attribute 
of  her  manifold  nature — her  loyalty.  Loyedty  to  parents,  to 
friends,  to  husband,  and  to  her  publishers.  After  her  first  novel, 
she  was  importuned,  vAth  most  flattering  offers,  by  nearly  all  the 
publishers  who  had  rejected  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician,  to  allow 
them  to  have  her  next  production ;  but  "  the  gods  on  Twenty- 
third  Street,"  as  she  most  often  designated  her  publishers,  "  have 
been  good  to  me,  and  I  know  of  no  reason  why  I  should  accept 
offers  from  publishers  who  did  n't  know  enough  to  know  a  good 
thing  when  they  saw  it,"  was  her  comment  to  her  friends,  as  she 
wrote  some  "  returned  with  thanks  "  letters. 

For  her  friends,  it  seemed  that  she  used  to  study  how  she 
might  serve  them — generous  with  her  money  when  needed,  of 
her  largess  to  those  she  loved  and  trusted,  and  of  her  time  when 

xxii 


it  was  possible.  She  was  frequently  consulted,  by  letter  as  well 
as  in  person,  by  young  authors,  or  would-be  authors,  as  to  how 
she  gained  success,  and  for  any  suggestions,  etc.,  and  very  sel- 
dom was  the  letter  unanswered ;  often  with  considerable  pains 
would  she  endeavour  to  say  the  encouraging  word.  This  reply, 
in  answer  to  a  friend  who  had  written  her  requesting  for  use  in 
a  symposium  for  a  city  Sunday  paper  a  Message  to  Young 
Women,  cannot  be  omitted : 

"To  the  young  womem  who  wishes  to  write,  I  would  say 
this :  '  Keep  at  it.*  If  the  desire  to  succeed  is  strong  enough, 
there  will  be  no  failure,  though  ambition  is  of  no  avail  without  a 
great  deal  of  hard  work.  The  technique  comes  slowly  and  by 
taking  infinite  pains,  but  no  workman  can  hope  to  succeed  unless 
he  is  thoroughly  in  command  of  his  tools.  There  is  much 
truth,  too,  in  what  Ellen  Thomeycroft  Fowler  says :  '  Writing 
is  like  flirting  :  if  you  can't  do  it,  no  one  can  teach  you  how,  and 
if  you  can  do  it,  no  one  can  keep  you  from  it.' " 

1  have  called  Myrtle  Reed  a  Maker  of  Songs,  for  each  one 
of  her  romances  was  a  song,  not  only  an  intense  love-song,  but 
a  song  of  joy,  or  a  psalm,  as  her  different  characters'  experiences 
worked  into  their  lives.  Flower  of  the  Dusl^  is  a  psalm  of  pain, 
of  despair,  and  praise ;  Master  of  the  Vineyard,  that  book 
which  might  under  less  chaste  and  delicate  handling,  have  been 
an  objectionable  sex-problem  novel  is  a  maurtial  hymn  of  praise 
and  of  victory — of  praise  of  honest,  faithful,  though  irksome, 
duties  well  done,  and  of  victory  over  our  lower  natures ;  while 
The  Master's  Violin  is  a  whole  group  of  songs,  ending  m  cin 
oratorio. 

As  I  have  read  and  re-read  these  fragrant,  stingless  stories,  this 

xxiii 


bit  of  conversation  between  Carlyle  and  Browning  has  recurred 
to  me :  "  When  I  last  saw  him  a  fortnight  ago,"  said  Browning, 
"  he  turned  from  I  don't  know  what  other  talk  quite  abruptly  on 
me  with,  '  Did  you  ever  try  to  write  a  song  ?  Of  all  things  in 
the  world  that  I  should  be  the  proudest  of  to  do.' " 

Myrtle  Reed  McCullough  had  a  right  to  be  proud,  and  her 
friends  were  proud  for  her.  With  one  of  her  "  songs,"  given  to 
the  writer  mzuiy  years  ago,  and  forming  now  one  of  her  Sonnets 
to  a  Lover,  we  will  say  "  Sweet  Singer,  Auf  Wiedersehen." 

LOVE'S  AFTERNOON 

"The  sunset  radiance  on  far  heights  heis  lain. 

And  in  hushed  murmur  flows  the  singing  stream ; 
Amid  the  maples  autumn  splendours  gleam 

And  shadows  slowly  creep  upon  the  plam. 

Soft  purple  dusk  lies  on  the  fields  of  grain. 
And  whispered  notes  of  drowsy  robins  seem 
Like  distant  echoes  from  the  hills  of  dream, 

Or  like  the  cadence  of  jui  April  rain. 

If  Love,  like  dawn  and  morning,  fades  away. 
If  only  once  there  comes  this  thing  sublime, 
If  Love's  sweet  year  holds  but  a  single  June, 
I  will  not  ask  from  God  another  day. 

Nor  plead  for  spring  again  at  harvest  lime. 

But  walk  toward  night  with  thee,  through  afternoon." 

MARY  BADOLLET  POWELL. 
Chicago, 

Oct.  1,  1911. 

xxtv 


WINTER 

Upon  my  casement  wintry  wmds  may  blow 

From  barren  wastes  and  uplands  bleak  and  chill. 
While  cold  and  bare,  above  the  distant  hill, 

The  last  light  lies  upon  a  crown  of  snow ; 

Athwart  the  shivering  pines  the  sleet  may  go 
The  Storm  King's  dreaded  vengeance  to  fulfil. 
Where  icy  streams  are  waiting,  deathly  still. 

Their  gentle  music  hushed  in  fear  and  woe. 

And  yet  I  have  no  Wmter,  since  thy  hand 
Has  led  me  where  eternal  beauty  lies — 
I  have  no  night  save  Imgermg  afternoon ; 
We  walk  together  in  the  summer  land. 

For  earth  has  someway  changed  to  Paradise ; 
Ah,  Heart  of  Mine,  with  thee  't  is  always  June ! 

Sonnets  to  a  Lover 


January 

The  heart's  seasons  seldom  coincide  with  the  cal- 
endar. Who  among  us  has  not  been  made  desolate 
beyond  all  words  upon  some  golden  day,  when  the 
little  creatures  of  the  air  and  meadow  were  life  in- 
carnate, from  sheer  joy  of  living?  Who  among  us  has 
not  come  home,  singing,  when  the  streets  were  almost 
impassable  with  snow,  or  met  a  friend,  with  a  happy, 
smiling  face,  in  the  midst  of  a  pouring  rain? 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


First 
Day 


Second 
Bay 


January 

"  There  are  countless  joys  in  the  world,  but  the 
griefs  are  few  and  old.  The  humblest  of  us  can  find 
new  happiness,  but  there  has  been  no  increase  of  sor- 
row since  the  world  was  made.  There  is  a  fixed  and 
unvariable  quantity  of  it  and  we  take  turns  bearing  it — 
that  *s  all.  Nothing  comes  to  any  of  us  that  someone 
before  us  has  not  met  like  a  soldier,  bravely  and  well." 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


Third 
Bay 

January  = 

"  We  don't  forgive  enough,  we  don't  love  enough, 
we  're  not  kind  enough,  and  that  's  all  that 's  wrong 
with  the  world.  There  is  n't  time  enough  for  bitter- 
ness— the  end  comes  too  soon." 

Flower  of  the  Dusli 

Fourth 
Bay 


"  One  uncongenial  guest  can  ruin  a  dinner  more  easily 
than  a  poor  salad,  and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

Men  make  better  cooks  than  women  because  they 
put  so  much  more  feeling  into  it. 

The  Spinster  Book, 


Fifth 
Day 


Sixth 
Bay 


January 

The  shallows  touch  the  pebbles,  and,  behold,  there 
is  a  little  song.  The  deeps  are  stirred  to  their  foun- 
dations, and,  long  afterward,  there  is  a  single  vast 
strophe,  majestic  and  immortal,  which  takes  its  place 
by  right  in  the  s)miphony  of  pain. 

\  The  Master's  Violin 


"  If  we  could  only  use  other  folks'  experience,  this ) 
here  world  would  be  heaven  in  about  three  genera- ' 
tions,  but  we  're  so  constructed  that  we  never  believe  i 
fire  '11  bum  till  we  poke  our  own  fingers  into  it  to  see./ 
Other  folks'  scars  don't  go  no  ways  at  all  toward 
convincin'  us."  / 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 


January 

LOVE'S  DAY  IS  DEAD 

Love's  day  is  dead.     Across  dim  years  I  look 
\       To  see  my  heart's  full  sunset  robed  in  gold; 
Your  hand  slips  into  mine,  as  if  to  hold 
My  faltering  faith  with  that  dear  bliss  of  old; 

Love's  day  is  dead. 

Love's  day  is  dead,  but  Memory  lives  on 
As  in  those  far-off  skies  the  afterglow 
Gives  hint  of  day  and  dawn.     Full  well  I  know 
That  Lethe's  cup  brims  not  for  me,  although 

Love's  day  is  dead.        j 

/ 


Seventh 
Bay 


Eighth 
Bay 


January 

There  is  a  fine  spiritual  essence  which  exhales  from 
the  covers  of  a  book.  Shall  one  touch  a  copy  of 
Shakespeare  with  other  than  reverent  hands,  or  take 
up  his  Boswell  without  a  smile?  Through  the  worn 
covers  and  broken  binding  the  master-spirit  still  speaks, 
no  less  than  through  the  centuries  which  lie  between. 
The  man  who  had  the  wishing-carpet,  upon  which  he 
sat  and  wished,  and  was  thence  immediately  trans- 
ported to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  was  not  possessed  of 
a  finer  magic  than  one  who  takes  his  Boswell  in  his 
hands,  and  then,  for  a  golden  quarter  of  an  hour,  lives 
in  a  bygone  London  with  Doctor  Johnson. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 


8 


^linth 
Bay 

January 

Friendship,  like  love,  is  often  a  matter  of  chemical 
affinity,  wherein  opposites  rush  together  in  obedience 
to  a  hidden  law. 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 

It  seems  to  be  a  settled  thing  that  men  shall  do  the 
courting  before  marriage  and  women  afterward.  No- 
body writes  articles  on  "  How  to  Make  a  Wife 
Happy,"  and  the  innumerable  cook-books,  like  an 
army  of  grasshoppers,  consume  and  devastate  the  land. 

The  Spinster  Book, 


Tenth 
Day 


January 

We  know  so  much  about  other  people  that  we  often 
have  not  time  to  give  due  attention  to  ourselves.  We 
neglect  our  own  affairs  that  we  may  unselfishly  direct 
others,  and  sometimes  suffer  in  consequence,  for  nobody 
but  a  lawyer  makes  a  good  living  by  attending  to  other 
people's  business. 

The  Spinster  Book 


Eleventh 
Day 


"Margaret,**  asked  Miss  Field,  suddenly,  "what  are 
you  going  to  make  of  that  boy?" 

"A  good  man  first,"  she  answered.     "After  that, 
what  God  pleases." 

The  Master's  Violin 


10 


Twelfth 
Bay 

January  ===== 

Marriage  is  the  cold  potato  of  love. 

The  Spinster  Book 

To  those  we  love  most,  w^e  are  invariably  most  cruel. 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 

/      Love  and  hate  alw^ays  remember;  it  is  only  indiffer- 
ence that  forgets.  / 


n 


Thir' 
teenth 

Day 


January 

"  Two  wrongs  never  make  one  perfect  right.  If 
you  do  your  part,  things  will  be  only  half  wrong 
instead  of  entirely  so." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard  ^"' 


Four' 
teenth 

Day 


He  told  her  of  a  love  so  vast  and  deep  that  it  could  / 


not  be  measured  by  finite  standards;  of  infinite  pity  i 
and  infinite  pardon.     This  love  was  everywhere;  it  • 
was  impossible  to  conceive  of  a  place  where  it  was  i 
not — it  enveloped  not  only  the  whole  world  but  all  the ) 
shining  worlds  beyond.     And  this  love,  in  itself  and 
of  itself,  was  God. 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


12 


Fifteenth 
Day 

January  ^"^""^^^^ 

The  mother-in-law  is  the  poster  attached  to  the 
matrimonial  magazine,  which  inspires  would-be  pur- 
chasers with  awe. 

The  Spinster  Book 

Sixteenth 
Day 

"  It  never  does  any  good  to  run  away  from  things 
that  must  be  faced  sooner  or  later.  /  We  women  have 
our  battles  to  fight  as  well  as  the  men  who  go  to  war, 
and  the  same  truth  applies  to  both — that  only  a  coward 
will  retreat  under  fire." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


13 


Seven,' 
teenth 

^°y  January 

The  gentle  art  of  cooking,  after  all,  is  closely  allied 
to  the  other  one — of  making  enemies. 

Lavender  and  Old  Lace 

There  are  fifty-seven  varieties  of  love,  any  one  of 
which  is  guaranteed  to  get  you  into  a  pickle 


14 


teenth 

January  ^^^ 

"TO  RENT" 

When  at  last  my  lease  expires 

Of  your  tender  heart, 
And  in  the  weary  way  of  life 

You  and  I  must  part — 
When  the  love  that  once  enchained  you 

Swiftly  sets  you  free, 
Dearest,  will  you  always  keep 

A  little  place  for  me? 

Tenantless,  perhaps,  but  still 

Only  for  a  day — 
Then  laughter,  song,  and  dancing  feet ; 

'Tis  the  world-old  way! 
But  if  the  music  wearies  you, 

Come  softly  to  this  shrine, 
Let  Memory  light  a  woman's  face 

With  love  that  once  was  mine. 


15 


teenth 
Day 


January 

"When  we  oppose  our  personal  opinion  to  the 
thing  as  it  is,  and  have  our  minds  set  upon  what  should 
be,  according  to  our  ideas,  it  makes  an  edge.  1 1  think 
it  is  the  finest  art  of  living  to  see  things  as  they  are  and 
make  the  best  of  them.  I  There  is  so  little  that  we  can 
change!  If  the  colours  break  over  us,  it  is  the  fault  of 
our  sharp  edges  and  not  of  the  light." 

The.  Master's  Violin 


16 


Twen^ 
tieth 

January  ^ 

Ugliness  may  be  changed  to  beauty  by  anyone  who 
knows  how  and  is  willing  to  work  for  it. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 

"When  we  get  civilised,  I  believe  children  will  go 
by  number  until  they  get  old  enough  to  choose  their 


own  names. 


Old  Rose  and  Silver 


\7 


Twenty* 
first 

°°^  January 

She  is  wise  who  fully  understands  her  weapon  of 
coquetry.  She  will  send  her  lover  from  her  at  the 
moment  his  love  is  strongest  and  he  will  often  seek  her 
in  Vciin.  She  will  be  parsimonious  with  her  letters 
and  caresses  and  thus  keep  her  attraction  at  its  height. 
If  he  is  forever  unsatisfied,  he  vsdll  always  be  her  lover, 
for  satiety  must  precede  repulsion. 

The  Spinster  Book 


18 


January 

The  appointed  thing  comes  at  the  appointed  time 
in  the  appointed  way.  There  is  no  terror  save  my 
own  fear. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Twenty* 

second 

Bay 


Twenty- 
third 

Day 


"The  only  way  to  win  happiness  is  to  give  it.  The 
more  we  give,  the  more  we  have."  / 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

To  one  distinct  class  of  women,  men  tell  their 
troubles;  the  other  class  sees  that  they  have  plenty  to 
tell.  It  is  better  to  be  in  the  second  category  than 
in  the  first. 

The  Spinster  Book 

19 


Twenty^ 
fourth 

Bay 


January 

Life  will  give  us  back  whatever  we  put  into  it.  In 
a  way,  it 's  just  like  a  bank.  Put  joy  into  the  world 
and  it  will  come  back  to  you  v^th  compound  interest, 
but  you  can't  check  out  either  money  or  happiness 
when  you  have  made  no  deposits. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


Twenty' 

fifth 

Day 


"A  letter  has  distinct  advantages.  You  can  say  all 
you  want  to  say  before  the  other  person  has  a  chance 
to  put  in  a  word." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


20 


Twenty* 
sixth 


January  ^^ 

The  mother  of  Sparta  bade  her  son  return  with  his 
shield  or  on  it,  and  the  thought  has  potential  might  to- 
day. If  a  man  honestly  loves  a  woman,  she  need  have 
no  fear  of  the  thousand  foes  that  wait  to  take  him 
from  her.  If  he  does  not,  the  sooner  she  understands 
the  truth,  the  better  it  is  for  both.  \  There  are  many 
people  who  consider  love  a  dream,  but  they  usually 
grow  to  think  of  marriage  as  the  cold  breakfast.    \ 

The  Spinster  Book 


21 


Twenty ' 

seventh 

Bay 


January 


t» 


A  SONG  OF  BOHEMIA 

The  fire  bums  low  where  the  shadow  lies 
As  though  a  topaz  in  dark  should  shine, 
For  the  light  that  dwells  in  her  starry  eyes 
Is  caught  in  the  amber  dusk  of  wine. 
What  care  we  for  the  days  hereafter 
When  firelight  gleams  on  the  oaken  rafter  ? 
For  life  is  love  and  love  is  laughter 
When  her  brimming  glass  meets  mine. 

Dreams  of  the  harvest — the  full  moon  creeping 

Up  to  the  dim  hills  sweet  with  pine; 
The  sound  of  the  reapmg — the  melody  sweeping 
Down  to  the  vmeyard  and  through  the  vine 
Made  royal  purple  with  clustered  treasure, 
Fragrant  with  nectar  in  generous  measure ; 
Ah,  life  is  love  and  love  is  pleasure 
When  her  brimmmg  glass  meets  mine. 

"  Here 's  to  Love !  "     And  the  world-old  story 

Takes  on  a  tenderness  half-divine, 
For  the  glowing  crystal  and  amber  glory 
Gleam  with  a  sparkle  not  wholly  wine. 

"  Here  's  to  Love  !  "     Can  the  tie  be  slender  ? 
Her  dark  eyes  shine  with  a  dusky  splendour  — 
Ah,  Sweetheart !     See,  her  face  grows  tender 
When  her  brimmmg  glass  meets  mine ! 


22 


Twenty^ 
eighth 

January  ^^y 


ea$ 


/  There  is  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  this  world  which 
IS  not  caused  by  people  keeping  their  mouths  shut.       / 

The  Book  of  Clever  Beasts 


Twenty ' 
ninth 


Day 

Love  is  the  divine  reagent  of  all  Life's  complicated 
chemistry;  the  swaft  turning  of  the  prism,  with  ragged     ; 
edges  breaking  the  light  into  the  colours  of  the  spectrum  / 
to  a  point  where  refraction  is  impossible.  / 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


23 


Thirtieth 
Bay 


Thirty 
first 

Day 


January 

"  I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  Ve  always  believed  that  | 

nothing  is  so  bad  it  can't  be  made  better."  / 

/ 
A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


No  mountains  divide  us,  no  seas  set  apart;  there  is  ' 
no  barrier  in  all  nature  except  the  lines  weak  human 
hands  have  drawn.     We  are  helpless  without  eachy 
other — we  cannot  suffer  or  enjoy  alone. 


x. 


Later  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 


24 


February 


THE  LITTLE  THINGS 

My  dear,  the  little  thmgs  I  did  for  you 

To-day  have  brought  me  comfort,  one  by  one, 
As  through  the  purple  dark  a  shaft  of  sun 

Strikes  far  at  dawn  and  changes  dusk  to  blue. 

The  little  things  it  cost  me  naught  to  do. 

Remembering  how  slow  life's  sands  may  run, 
To-day  a  web  of  purest  gold  have  spun 

Across  the  gulf  that  lies  between  us  two. 

Oh,  dead  and  dear,  the  many  little  things! 
The  loving  words  I  did  not  fail  to  say, 
The  kiss  at  parting,  the  ceuressmg  touch — 
What  shriven  peace  to  me  the  memory  brings  I 
And,  weeping  at  your  open  grave  to-day. 
No  single  pang  because  I  did  too  much ! 


First 
Day 

February  

"Truth  is  one  clear  white  light  and  we  are  sun- 
glasses with  many  corners.  Prisms,  I  think  you  say. 
If  the  light  strikes  a  sharp  edge,  it  breaks  into  many 
colours.  To  one  of  us,  everything  will  be  purple,  to 
another  red,  and  to  yet  one  more  it  will  be  all  blue. 
If  we  have  many  edges,  we  see  many  colours.  It  is  \ 
only  the  person  who  is  in  tune,  who  lets  the  light  pass 
without  interruption,  who  sees  all  things  in  one  harmony, 
and  Truth  as  it  is." 

The  Master's  Violin 


27 


Second 
Bay 


Third 
Day 


February 

"  There  ain't  never  no  use  in  borrering  trouble  and 
givin'  up  your  peace  of  mind  as  security,  cause  you 
don't  never  get  the  security  back.  I  've  been  married 
enough  to  know  that  there 's  plenty  of  trouble  in  life 
besides  w^hat  's  looked  for,  and  it  *11  get  in,  without  your 
holdin*  open  the  door  and  spreadin'  a  mat  out  with 


\     '  Welcome '  on  it/ 

V 


At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o* -Lantern       / 

/ 


I 


If  a  wireless  telegraph  instrument,  sending  its  call  in- 
to space,  may  be  answered  with  lightning-like  swiftness 
by  another  a  thousand  miles  away,  why  should  not  a 
thought,  without  the  clumsy  medium  of  speech,  instantly 
respond  to  another  thought  from  a  mind  in  harmony 
with  it  ? 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


28 


Fourth 
Bay 

February  ^^"'^''^ 

There  is  a  charm  about  other  people's  affairs  which 
would  render  life  beautiful  indeed  if  it  could  be  added 
to  one's  own. 

The  Spinster  Book 


Fifth 
Day 


"It  saves  trouble  to  be  conventional,  for  youVe  not 
always  explaining  things.  Most  of  the  startling  items 
we  read  in  the  newspapers  are  serious  lapses  from 
conventionality  and  good  manners. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


29 


Sixth 
Day 


Seventh 
Bay 


February 

"  All  the  life  is  made  from  death  and  all  the  deathf 

i 

has  only  gone  on  to  life  again.  You  cannot  have  one| 
without  the  other,  any  more  than  you  can  have  a  light 
without  a  shadow  somewhere,  nor  a  shadow  without 
knowing  that  somewhere  there  must  be  light." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


/     The  most  precious  things  in  the  world  are  those 
which  cannot  be  bought — the  tender  touch  of  a  little 
J  child's  fingers,  the  light  in  a  woman's  eyes,  and  the 
I  love  in  a  woman's  heart.  / 

Later  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 


30 


Eighth 
Day 

February  = 

cat 

Cooking  and  love  may  seem  at  first  glance  to  be 
widely  separated,  but  no  woman  can  have  one  without 
the  other. 

The  Spinster  Book 

"  I  hope  that  sometime  our  civilisation  may  reach  such 
a  point  of  advancement  that  every  woman  will  wear 
the  clothes  and  jewels  that  suit  her  personality  and 
make  her  home  a  proper  setting  for  herself." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


I 


31 


Minth 
Bay 


Tenth 
Bay 


February 

cat 

"Lots  of  people  think  they  're  charitable  if  they  give 
away  their  old  clothes  and  things  they  don't  want.  It 
is  n't  charity  to  give  away  things  you  want  to  get  rid 
of,  and  it  is  n't  a  sacrifice  to  do  things  you  don't  mind 
doing." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


Woman  has  three  weapons :  flattery,  food,  and  flirta- 
tion, and  only  the  last  of  these  is  ever  denied  her  by 
Time.  With  the  first  she  appeals  to  man's  conceit, 
with  the  second  to  his  heart,  which  is  suspected  to  lie 
at  the  end  of  the  oesophagus  rather  than  over  among 
lungs  and  ribs,  and  with  the  third  to  his  natural  rivalry 
of  his  fellows. 

The  Spinster  Book 


32 


Eleventh 
Day 

February  '^'^'''^'^^^ 

The  moral  support  afforded  by  a  well-fitting  corset 
is  inconceivable  to  the  mind  of  a  mere  man.  A  corset 
is  to  a  woman  what  a  hat  is  to  a  man — it  prepares  for 
any  emergency,  enables  one  to  meet  life  on  equal  terms, 
and  even  to  face  a  rebellious  cook  or  janitor  with  "that 
repose  which  marks  the  caste  of  Vere  de  Vere." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver  "^ — 

Twelfth 

Bay 

"  I  wonder  why  people  always  cry  at  weddings  and 
engagements  and  such  things?  A  husband  or  wife  is  the 
only  relative  we  are  permitted  to  choose — we  even  have 
very  little  to  say  when  it  comes  to  a  mother-in-law. 
With  parents,  brothers,  sisters,  uncles,  aunts,  and  cousins 
all  provided  by  a  generous  but  sometimes  undiscriminat- 
ing  Fate,  it  seems  hard  that  one's  only  choice  should  be 
made  unpleasant  by  salt  water. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 
33 


teenth 

^^y  February 

TO  HER 

The  dainty  bits  of  silk  and  lace 

For  Fortune's  favoured  few, 
Are  not  for  me,  with  careless  grace. 

To  buy  and  send  to  you; 
Into  my  empty  purse  I  peer. 

Where  silver  does  not  shine, 
Yet  m  my  dreams  I  send  you,  Dear, 

A  tender  Valentme. 

I  have  no  roses.     They  are  meet 

To  seek  you  out  and  say: 
"With  all  my  soul  I  love  you.  Sweet, 

For  ever  and  a  day  " ; 
I  have  no  diamond  star  impceirled, 

No  sapphire  glinting  blue, 
Yet  there  is  naught  in  all  the  world 

I  would  not  give  to  you. 

And  still  there  is  a  tender  thing 

Which  has  no  subtle  art; 
I  have  no  poet's  song  to  sing. 

But  only  this — a  heart. 
With  all  its  love  I  send  you  this. 

Straight  from  my  breast  to  thine. 
And,  Dearest,  see!     A  little  kiss 

To  be  your  Valentme ! 


34 


Four' 
teenth 


February  ?f^ 


an 

A  VALENTINE 

The  world  waxeth  old  and  colder  and  we  hide  our 
hearts  within  us  lest  their  precious  essence  fade  away. 
And,  though  we  love  each  other,  we  show  it  not,  save 
in  dreams,  and  in  the  darkness  which  clingeth  round 
us  we  grope  blindly  and  alone. 

Sometimes  we  see  the  glimmer  of  a  far-off  star,  and, 
reaching  it,  we  find  but  a  will-o'-the-wisp  which  leadeth 
us  into  many  and  strange  places.  But,  after  much 
deceit  and  stumbling,  we  come  at  last  to  the  true  radi- 
ance, which  shineth  steady  and  clear  and  filleth  our 

souls  with  joy. 

And  so  to  thee,  Beloved,  because  thou  hast  ever  led 
me  toward  the  heights,  and  because  through  sun  and 
storm  thou  hast  ever  loved  me,  seeing  not  the  earthly 
being  that  I  am  but  the  angel  that  I  long  to  be,  I  send 
this  Valentine,  and  its  message  of  my  love  for  thee. 
Later  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 

35 


Fifteenth 
Bay 


Sixteenth 
Bay 


February 

A  woman  may  be  a  mystery  to  a  man  and  to  her- 
self, but  never  to  another  woman.  There  is  no  con- 
cealment which  is  effectual  when  the  eyes  of  another 
woman  are  fixed  upon  one's  small  and  harmless  schemes. 

The  Spinster  Booli 


Love — neither  hunger  nor  thirst  nor  passion  nor  the 
need  of  sleep,  neither  a  perception  of  the  senses  nor  a 
physical  demand,  yet  streaming  divinely  through  any 
or  all  of  these  as  only  light  may  stream, — the  heavenly 
signal  of  a  star  to  earth  through  infinite  darkness, 
illimitable  space. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


36 


February 

Who  shall  say  that  inanimate  things  do  not  answer  to 
our  love  of  them,  and  diffuse  between  our  four  walls 
a  certciin  gracious  spirit  of  kindliness  and  welcome? 

Flower  of  the  Dusl^ 


Seven* 
tee  nth 
Bay 


Eigh* 
tee  nth 

Bay 


No  one  can  make  a  home  alone.  It  needs  a  man's 
strong  hands,  a  woman's  tender  hands,  and  two  true 
hearts. 

The  Spinster  Book, 

"They  say  a  fireplace  is  the  heart  of  a  house,  but  I 
think  a  woman  is  the  soul  of  it. " 

Old  Rose  and  Sdver 


37 


J\[ine' 
teenth 

Bay 


February 

a? 

When  Life  lies  fair  in  the  distance,  with  the  rosy 
hues  of  anticipation  transfiguring  its  rugged  steeps  and 
yawning  chasms,  we  are  young,  though  our  years  may 
number  threescore  and  ten.  On  that  first  day  when 
we  look  back,  either  happily  or  with  remorse,  to  the 
stony  ways  over  which  we  have  travelled,  losing  concern 
for  that  part  of  the  journey  which  is  yet  to  come,  we 
have  grown  old. 

The  Master's  Violin 


38 


^i 


\ 

February 

AFTERGLOW 


\ 


\ 


\ 


\ 


If  only  at  the  last  your  tears  may  fall 

Upon  my  upturned  face  of  helpless  clay, 
Unfearing  I  shall  tread  the  hidden  way 
And  follow  where  the  mystic  voices  call. 
If  only  at  the  last  you  deem  me  fair 

And  whisper  tender  words — ah,  I  shall  know; 
Beyond  the  wintry  branches,  leafless,  bare. 
My  longing  sight  awaits  the  afterglow. 

If  only  at  the  last  a  little  while 

You  kneel  beside  me  in  the  darkened  room. 
Amid  the  drifted  white  of  sprmgtime  bloom, 
It  seems  as  if  my  silent  lips  must  smile. 
If  you  should  lay  rosemary  'midst  my  rue. 

And  kiss  my  empty  hands,  and  softly  hold 
My  fingers  in  your  own^  I  'd  dream  of  you, 

And  all  my  saddened  skies  would  turn  to  gold. 


Twen- 
tieth 

Day 


If  only  at  the  last  a  little  love 

May  follow  me  beneath  the  shielding  sod. 
And  that  be  yours,  I  shall  not  ask  of  God 
A  truer  way  His  saving  grace  to  prove ; 

A-dreaming  where  the  wind-swept  grasses  grow 

That  last  "good-night"  I  shall  forever  hear, 
And  my  face  wear  the  light  of  afterglow 
If  only  at  the  last  you  love  me.  Dear ! 


39 


f 


Twenty' 
first 

^^y  February 

He  who  would  win  a  woman  must  challenge  her 
admiration,  prove  himself  worthy  of  her  regard,  appeal 
to  her  sympathy — and  then  wound  her.  She  is  never 
wholly  his  until  she  realises  that  he  has  the  power  to 
make  her  miserable  as  well  as  to  make  her  happy,  and 
that  love  is  an  infinite  capacity  for  suffering. 

The  Spinster  Book 


40 


February 

"  It 's  better  to  be  unhappy  than  never  to  take  any 
risks.  It  all  lies  in  yourself  at  last.  If  you  're  a  true, 
loving  woman,  and  never  let  yourself  be  afraid,  nothing 
very  bad  can  ever  happen  to  you.  You  have  the 
right  to  love  and  learn  and  suffer,  to  make  great  sacri-' 
fices,  see  great  sacrifices  made  for  you;  to  believe,  to 
trust,  even  to  be  betrayed." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


Twenty- 
second 
Day 


41 


Twenty' 

third 

Day 


I 


February 

\  fought  something  out  myself,  once,  and  I  won. 
It  was  hard,  but  I  did  it,  and  I  'd  do  it  again — I 
{ would  n't  be  coward  enough  to  run  away.  When 
things  hurt  you,  you  don't  have  to  let  anybody  know. 
You  can  shut  your  lips  tight,  and  if  you  bite  your 
tongue  hard  enough,  it  keeps  back  the  tears.  I  always 
pretend  I  'm  a  rock,  with  the  waves  beating  against 
me.  Let  it  hurt  inside,  if  it  wants  to — you  don't  have 
to  let  anybody  see." 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


42 


Twenty- 
fourth 

February  ^"^ 

The  most  pathetic  thing  in  matrimony  is  the  regular- 
ity with  which  husbands  relate  the  irregularities  of  their 
friends. 

The  Spinster  Book 

"An  old  maid  is  a  woman  who  never  could  have 
married  and  a  spinster  is  merely  one  who  has  n't." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


43 


Twenty' 
fifth 

^gy  February 

She  had  thought  of  marriage  as  a  sort  of  miraculous 
welding  of  two  individualities  into  one,  and  was  per- 
ceiving that  it  changed  nothing  very  much — that  souls 
went  on  their  way  unaltered.  She  saw,  too,  that  there 
was  no  one  in  the  wide  world  who  could  share  her 
every  mood  and  tense,  that  ultimately  each  one  of  us 
lives  and  dies  alone,  within  the  sanctuary  of  his  own 
inner  self,  cheered  only  by  some  passing  mood  of  friend 
or  stranger  which  chances  to  chime  with  his. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o* -Lantern 


44 


Twenty' 
sixth 


February  ^ 

Woman's  tears  mean  no  more  than  the  sparks  from 
an  overcharged  dynamo — they  are  simply  emotional 
relief. 

The.  Spinster  Book 

i 

Life  had  taught  her  one  great  lesson,  and  when  one 
door  of  her  heart  was  closed,  she  opened  another,  as 
quickly  as  possible. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


45 


Twenty' 
seventh 

^^^  February 

Talk,  after  all,  is  pathetically  cheap.  Where  one 
cannot  understand  without  words,  no  amount  of  expla- 
nation will  make  things  clear.  Across  impassable  deeps, 
like  lofty  peaks  of  widely  parted  ranges,  soul  greets  soul. 
Separated  forever  by  the  limitations  of  our  clay,  we 
live  and  die  absolutely  alone.  Even  Love,  the  magician, 
who  for  dazzling  moments  gives  new  sight  and  bound- 
less revelation,  cannot  always  work  his  charm.  A 
third  of  our  lives  is  spent  in  sleep,  and  who  shall  say 
what  proportion  of  the  rest  is  endured  in  planetary 
isolation? 

The  Master's  Violin 


46 


February 

"We  can  get  out  of  anything,  if  we  try.  I*m  not 
meaning  by  escape,  but  by  growth.  You  put  an  acorn 
into  a  crevice  in  a  rock.  It  has  no  wings,  it  cannot 
fly  out,  nobody  will  lift  it  out.  But  it  grows,  and  the 
oak  splits  the  rock;  even  takes  from  the  rock  nourish- 
ment for  its  root." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


We  can  get  used  to  almost  anything,  if  we  have  to. 
The  Book,  of  Clever  Beasts 


Twenty' 
eighth 

Day 


Twenty^ 
ninth 

Day 


47 


March 


A  VIOLIN 

Dzirk  night  and  storm,  and  passioned  breaker's  din, 
The  sea-bird's  note,  the  vastness  of  the  tide, 
And  softest  winds  that  through  the  forest  sighed 

Are  with  this  fibre  strangely  woven  in. 

The  organ-tones  of  surge  and  sea  begin 
Within  this  mystic  temple,  sanctified 
By  all  the  vanished  years,  that,  ere  they  died, 

Had  hid  their  sweetness  in  a  violin. 

Some  day  the  buried  music  shall  be  found 
When  master-hands  awake  the  sleeping  voice 
To  some  great  song  that  in  crescendo  rmgs; 
And  thus,  as  silence  changed  to  rapturous  sound. 
My  wakened  heart  must  evermore  rejoice 

Because  thy  fingers  touched  the  hidden  strings. 

Sonnets  to  a  Lover 


First 
Bay 

March  ^^"^"""^ 

of 

Once  in  a  man*s  life,  perhaps,  he  sees  himself  as 
he  is. 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 

The  combination  of  native  meanness  with  large 
opportunity  is  rare,  but  not  too  rare. 

"  Sometimes  I  think  there  is  no  sin  but  shirking.  I 
can  excuse  a  liar,  I  can  pardon  a  thief,  I  can  pity  a 
murderer,  but  a  shirk — no  !  " 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun  

Second 
Day 

Those  who  do  not  believe  in  personal  influence 
should  remain  alone  for  a  time  in  a  place  which  an 
uninvited  relative  has  regretfully  left. 

The  Book  of  Clever  Beasts 
51 


Third 
Bay 


March 

cat 

THE  SHIP  OF  MY  HEART 

I  sent  the  ship  of  my  heart  away 
At  the  dawn  of  a  summer  day, 
Out  where  laughing  mermaids  play 
'Mid  tossing  surge  of  sea  ; 
"  Oh  ship,"  I  whispered  low, 
"  Where  the  night  winds  moan  and  blow. 
Seek  out  my  love  in  the  night's  dull  grey 
And  bring  him  back  to  me  1 

I  sent  the  ship  of  my  heart  to  sea ; 
Oh  Captain,  hear  my  plea  ! 
Seek  out  my  one  true  love  for  me 
In  yonder  blmding  spray ; 

Where  the  breakers  meet  and  flow. 
Set  the  harbour  lights  aglow. 
And  out  of  the  East's  dim  mystery 
Bring  back  my  love  to-day ! 


52 


Fourth 
Bay 


March 

The  divinest  gift  of  marriage  is  this — the  daily, 
unconscious  growing  of  two  souls  into  one.  Aspira- 
tions and  ambitions  merge,  each  with  the  other,  and 
love  grows  fast  to  love.  Unselfishness  answers  to  un- 
selfishness, tenderness  responds  to  tenderness,  and  the 
highest  joy  of  each  is  the  welUbeing  of  the  other. 
The  words  of  Church  and  State  are  only  the  seal  of  a 
predestined  compact.  Day  by  day  and  year  by  year 
the  bond  becomes  closer  and  dearer,  until  at  last  the 
two  are  one,  and  even  death  is  no  division. 

Flower  of  the  DusJ^ 


53 


Fifth 
Day 


March 

"  When  you  can't  see  straight  ahead,  it 's  because 
you  're  about  to  turn  a  corner." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

r 

I  "  I  don't  know  what 's  going  to  happen  to  me  in 
the  next  world,  nor  even  if  there  is  any  next  world, 
but  I'll  march  to  the  end  of  my  enlistment  with  my 
soldier's  honour  still  unstained." 

1  The  Shadow  of  Victory 


54 


Sixth 
Bay 

March 

It  would  be  a  beautiful  world,  indeed,  if  we  were 
not  at  such  pains  to  hide  our  real  selves — if  all  our 
kindly  thoughts  were  spoken  and  all  our  generous  deeds 
were  done.  No  one  of  us  would  think  of  Death  as 
our  best  friend  if  we  were  not  all  so  bitterly  unkind. 
Yet  we  put  into  still,  white  fingers  the  roses  for  whichj 
the  living  might  have  pleaded  in  vain,  and  too  often, 
with  streaming  eyes,  we  ask  pardon  of  the  dead. 

The  Spinster  Boof^ 


55 


Seventh 
Day 


Eighth 
Day 


March 

Just  why  women  should  be  concerned  in  regard  to 
old  loves  has  never  been  wholly  clear.  One  might  as 
well  fancy  a  clean  slate,  freshly  and  elaborately  dedi- 
cated to  noble  composition,  being  bothered  by  the 
addition  and  subtraction  which  was  once  done  upon 
its  surface. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o* -Lantern 


The  heart  of  a  man  is  divided  into  many  compart- 
ments, mostly  isolated.  Sometimes  there  is  a  door 
between  two  of  them,  or  even  three  may  be  joined,  but 
usually  each  one  is  complete  in  itself.  Within  the 
different  chambers  his  soul  sojourns  as  it  will,  since, 
immeasurably  beyond  woman,  he  possesses  the  power 
of  detachment,  of  intermittence. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


56 


^linth 
Bay 

March  ^"^^""^ 

LONELINESS 

Night,  and  the  empty  room !     The  day's  work  done 
Ends  for  me  in  loneliness  till  morning's  sun ; 
Then  toil,  till  the  night  lamps  blaze,  and,  through  the  gloom. 
Bring  back  to  me  the  loneliness — the  empty  room. 

Outside,  the  bells  and  endless  roar  of  city's  din, 

Yet  here  no  foot  may  ever  pause  or  turn  within ; 

Safe  and  sheltered  although  I  am,  the  long  night  through, 

I  wake  m  darkness  and  strangely  crave  the  touch  of  you. 

Your  warm  words  start  from  out  the  page,  so  mute  and  white; 

I  hold  them  close,  for  this  is  all  I  have  to-night ; 

Not  for  me  your  tender  arms  nor  kiss  to  know — 

The  whole  world  lies  between,  and  yet  I  want  you  so ! 

If,  for  a  moment,  your  hand  might  lie  upon  my  face. 
For  a  blinding  instant  I  felt  your  love,  my  saving  grace, 
My  courage,  I  know,  would  surely  rise,  as  with  the  dawn, 
Work  one  day  more  with  joy,  and  then — forever  on  I 


57 


Tenth 
Day 


March 

No  house  is  more  than  a  roof  and  four  walls,  with- 
out the  spirit  that  makes  it  home. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 

A  woman,  a  fire,  and  a  singing  kettle  are  the  dear, 
familiar  spirits  of  the  house. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

THE  PARADISE  FLAT  TOAST: 

May  our  house  always  be  too  small  to  hold  all  our 
friends. 


58 


Eleventh 
Bay 


March 

" '  T  is  not  for  us  to  be  happy  without  trying,  any 
more  than  it  is  for  a  tree  to  bear  fruit  without  effort. 
All  the  beauty  and  joy  in  the  world  are  the  result  of 
work — work  for  each  other  and  in  ourselves." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


Twelfth 
Bay 


After  the  door  of  a  woman's  heart  has  once  swung 
on  its  silent  hinges,  a  man  thinks  he  can  prop  it  open 
with  a  brick  and  go  away  and  leave  it.  A  storm  is 
apt  to  displace  the  brick,  however,  and  there  is  a 
heavy  spring  upon  the  door.  Woe  to  the  masculine 
finger  that  is  in  the  way ! 

The  Spinster  Book 


59 


Thin 
teenth 

Day 


Four' 
teenth 

Bay 


Fifteen 
Bay 


March 

"  I  've  begun  to  see  that  it  is  n't  so  much  our  business 
to  be  happy  as  it  is  to  do  the  things  we  are  meant  to 
do.  And  I  think,  too,  that  happiness  comes  most 
surely  to  those  who  do  not  go  out  in  search  of  it,  but 
do  their  work  patiently  and  wait  for  it  to  come." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 

In  the  rainbow  brilliantly  spanning  the  two  mysterious 
silences,  what  is  there  for  any  of  us,  worth  the  having, 
more  than  work  and  friends  and  love  ? 

Love  Affairs  of  Literary  Men 

"  When  the  right  man  comes,  and  you  know  abso- 
lutely in  your  own  heart  that  he  is  the  right  man,  go 
with  him  whether  he  be  prince  or  beggar.  ...  If 
you  love  him  and  he  loves  you,  there  are  no  barriers 
between  you — they  are  nothing  but  cobwebs.  Sweep 
them  aside  with  a  single  stroke  of  magnificent  daring, 
and  go." 

The  Master's  Violin 
60 


Sixteenth 
Bay 

March  


ast 


"  It 's  the  eternal  woman-hunger  for  love  that  makes 
us  what  we  are,  compels  us  to  endure  what  we  do, 
and  keeps  us  all  door-mats  with  *  Welcome '  printed  on 
us  in  red  letters.  Eagerly  trustful,  we  keep  on  buying 
tickets  to  the  circus,  and  never  discover,  until  we  are 
old  and  grey,  that  it 's  always  exactly  the  same  enter- 
tainment and  we're  admitted  to  it,  each  time,  by  a 
different  door." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


61 


Seven,' 
teenth 

Bay 


Eigh' 
teenth 

Bay 


March 

"  There  are  always  two  sides  to  everything,  and 
when  we  get  so  civilised  that  all  women  may  be  self- 
supporting  if  they  choose,  we  may  see  a  little  advice  to 
husbands  on  the  way  of  keeping  a  wife's  love,  instead 
of  the  flood  of  nonsense  that  disfigures  the  periodicals 


now. 


Old  Rose  and  Silver 


"  It  all  depends  on  the  way  you  look  at  it.     The 
point  of  view  is  everything  in  this  world." 

Lavender  and  Old  Lace 


62 


Aline- 
tee  nth 


March  ^"^ 


<2$ 

Far  up  in  the  mountains,  amid  snow-clad  steeps  and 
rock-bound  fastnesses,  one  finds,  perchance,  a  shell.  It 
is  so  small  a  thing  that  it  can  be  held  in  the  hollow  of 
the  hand ;  so  frail  that  a  slight  pressure  of  the  finger 
will  crush  it  to  atoms,  yet,  held  to  the  ear,  it  brings  the 
surge  and  sweep  of  that  vast  primeval  ocean  which,  in 
the  inconceivably  remote  past,  covered  the  peak.  And^ 
so,  to  the  eye  of  the  mind,  the  small  brown  book,  withj 
its  hundred  printed  pages,  brings  back  the  whole  story; 
of  the  world. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 


63 


Tweri' 
tieth 

^«y  March 


^ 


When  a  woman  once  tells  a  man  that  she  loves  him, 
he  regards  it  as  some  chemical  process  which  has 
taken  place  in  her  heart,  and  he  never  considers  the 
possibility  of  change.  He  is  little  concerned  as  to 
its  expression,  for  he  knows  it  is  there.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is  only  by  expression  that  a  woman  ever  feels 
certain  of  a  man's  love. 

The,  Spinster  Book 


64 


Twenty* 
first 

March  ^^^ 


IT  WAS  WINTER 

It  was  wmter,  and  the  wood  was  bleak  and  grey ; 
There  was  portent  in  the  vastness  of  the  night ; 
But  on  the  waiting  earth  enchantment  lay 
That  set  the  trembling  East  aglow  with  light. 
A  violet  unclosed,  a  maple  stirred, 
A  dreaming  river  woke  a  drowsy  bird, 
At  dawn  a  robin  soared  aJoft  to  sing — 
Lo,  it  was  Spring  ! 

It  was  winter  in  my  heart  ere  you  were  there, 

It  was  night  upon  my  thorny,  upward  way ; 
I  stretched  my  hands  out  through  the  dark  in  prayer 
And  dreamed  the  faltering  dawn  had  hinted  day. 
Then  blind  tears  veiled  mine  unbelieving  sight, 
God  set  thy  love  like  stcirs  within  my  night, 
And  at  thy  touch,  my  soul  awoke  to  sing — 
Lo,  it  is  Spring  I 


65 


Twenty' 

second 

Bay 


Twenty^   j 

third 

Day 


March 

cat 

"  The  finest  gift  in  the  world  is  pleasure.  Sometimes 
I  think  it 's  better  to  feed  the  soul  and  let  the  body 
fast." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

"  So  far,  we  have  one  life  and  one  death.  At  the 
end  of  one,  we  meet  the  other,  so  how  does  it  matter 
— when,  or  in  what  way  ?  '*  1 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


"  When  I  see  the  pitiful  specimens  of  manhood  that 
women  love,  the  things  they  give,  the  sacrifices  they 
make,  the  neglect  and  desertions  they  suffer  from,  the 
countless  humiliations  they  strive  to  bear  proudly,  I 
wonder  that  any  one  of  us  dares  to  look  in  the  mirror." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


66 


Twenty> 
fourth 

March  ^""^ 

There  are  three  problems  man  is  destined  never  to 
solve — perpetual  motion,  the  square  of  the  circle,  and 
the  heart  of  a  woman. 

The  Spinster  Book 

"  The  seventh  son  of  a  seventh  son,  born  with  a  caul 
and  having  three  trances  regularly  every  day  after 
meals,  never  could  hope  to  understand  a  woman  unless 
she  was  willing  to  help  him  out  a  little  occasionally." 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 


67 


Twenty' 

fifth 

Bay 


March 
at 

One  works  steadily,  even  for  years,  bending  all  his 
energies  toward  one  single  point,  and  what  is  the  result? 
Nothing  1  Another  turns  the  knob  of  a  door,  walks 
into  a  strange  room,  or,  perhaps,  writes  a  letter,  and 
from  that  moment  his  whole  life  is  changed,  for  destiny 
lurks  in  hinges  and  abides  upon  the  written  page. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


68 


Twenty' 
sixth 


March  ^ 

at 

Life,  after  all,  is  a  masquerade.  We  fear  to  show 
our  tenderness  and  our  love.  We  habitually  hide  our 
best  feelings,  lest  we  be  judged  weak  and  emotional 
and  unfit  for  the  age  in  which  it  is  our  privilege  to 
move.  Sometimes  it  needs  Death  to  show  us  ourselves 
and  to  teach  our  friends  our  deep  and  unsuspected 
kindness. 

The  Spinster  Book 


69 


Twenty^ 
seventh 

Day 


March 

"  All  we  can  do  in  this  world  is  the  thing  that  seems 
to  us  the  best.  We  have  no  concern  with  the  results, 
except  as  a  guide  for  the  future,  and  sometimes,  years 
afterward,  we  see  that  what  seemed  like  a  bitter  loss 
was,  in  reality,  gain."  j 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


70 


March 


C0t 


Twenty^ 
eighth 

Bay 


\ 


\  "  I  have  deliberately  forgotten  all  the  unpleasant 
things  and  remembered  the  others.  When  a  little 
pleasure  has  flashed  for  a  moment  against  the  dark,  I 
have  made  that  jewel  mine.  ...  I  call  it  my 
Necklace  of  Perfect  Joy.  When  the  world  goes* 
wrong,  I  have  only  to  close  my  eyes  and  remember  thej 
links  in  my  chciin,  set  with  gems,  some  large  and  some 
small,  but  beautiful  with  the  beauty  which  never  fades. 
It  is  all  I  can  take  wdth  me  when  I  go.  My  material 
possessions  must  stay  behind,  but  my  Necklace  of 
Perfect  Joy  vsall  bring  me  happiness  to  the  end,  when 

]  I  put  it  on,  to  be  nevermore  unclasped."  I 

The  Master's  Violin 


71 


Twenty' 
ninth 

^^y  March 

Civilisation  must  have  begun  not  earlier  than  nine  in 
the  morning,  nor  later  than  noon. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

It  is  difficult  to  conjecture  what  the  state  of  civilisa- 
tion might  be  if  it  were  common  for  people  to  marry 
their  first  loves,  regardless  of  "  age,  colour,  or  previous 
condition  of  servitude." 

The  Spinster  Bool^ 


72 


March 


Thirtieth 
Bay 


^ 


I 


It  is  only  through  our  own  sorrow  that  we  come  toj 
understand  the  sorrow  of  others  ;  only  through  our  own 
weaknesses  that  we  learn  to  pity  the  weakness  of  others, 
and  only  through  our  own  love  and  forgiveness  that  we 
can  ever  comprehend  the  infinite  love  and  forgiveness 
of  God.  - 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun  Thirty^ 

first 


Day 


Fresh  courage  must  ever  dawn  in  a  man*s  soul  when 
a  woman's  faith  keeps  the  lovelight  burning  upon  the 
altar  of  his  home.  I 

Later  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 


73 


f  OUTWARD  BOUND 

When  on  the  unknown  deep  there  comes  a  sa3. 
Outlined  in  shadow  on  the  darkened  sea. 
When  far  beyond,  the  Captain  calls  to  me 

And  I  alone  can  hear  his  searching  hail, 

Why  should  I  fear  to  pass  beyond  the  pale 
And  say  a  long  feirewell  to  love  and  thee. 
When,  set  on  whitening  lips  so  tenderly, 

Thy  lover's  kiss  no  longer  may  avail  ? 

When  all  is  done,  I  have  no  fear  nor  dread. 
So  when  the  Captain  calls  me,  speak  me  fair 
I  And  hold  my  hand  a  moment  in  thine  own ; 

For  I  should  love  thee  still  though  I  were  dead 
And  peist  the  waste  of  waters  find  thee  there — 
Sweetheart !     I  know  I  Ccinnot  die  cilone  ! 

Sonnets  to  a  Lover 


76 


April 

of 

A  book,  unlike  any  other  friend,  will  wait,  not  only 
upon  the  hour  but  upon  the  mood.  It  asks  nothing 
and  gives  much,  when  one  comes  in  the  right  way. 
The  volumes  stand  in  serried  ranks  at  attention,  listen- 
ing eagerly,  one  may  fancy,  for  the  command.  \ 

Is  your  world  a  small  one,  made  unendurable  by  a 
thousand  petty  cares  ?     Are  the  heart  and  soul  of  you 
cast  down  by  bitter  disappointment  ?    Would  you  leave  j 
it  all,  if  only  for  an  hour,  and  come  back  with  a  new ' 
point  of  view  ?     Then  open  the  covers  of  a  book.  .  .  . 

Would  you  have  for  your  friends  a  great  company ' 
of    noble  men  and   women  who  have  wrought  and 
suffered  and  triumphed  in  the  end  ?     Would  you  find 
new  courage,  stronger  faith,  and  serene  hope  ?     Then 
open  the  covers  of  a  book,  and  presto — change ! 

The  M aster* s  Violin 


First 
Day 


77 


Second 
Bay 


Third 
Bay 


April 


There  is  no  virtue  in  women  which  men  cultivate  so 
assiduously  as  forgiveness.  They  make  one  think  that 
it  is  very  pretty  and  charming  to  forgive.  It  is  not 
hygienic,  however,  for  the  woman  who  forgives  easily 
has  a  great  deal  of  it  to  do. 

The  Spinster  Book 


"I  had  thought,  in  my  blindness,  that  the  great 
things  were  the  easiest  to  do,  but  now  I  see  that 
drudgery  is  an  inseparable  part  of  everything  worth 
while,  and  the  more  worth  while  it  is,  the  more 
drudgery  is   involved." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


78 


Fourth 
Day 

April  == 

at 

Spring  was  stirring  at  the  heart  of  the  world,  sending 
new  currents  of  sap  into  the  veins  of  the  trees,  new 
aspirations  into  dead  roots  and  fibres,  fresh  hopes  of 
bloom  into  every  sleeping  rose.  Life  incarnate  knocked 
at  the  wintry  tomb ;  eager,  unseen  hands  were  rolling  | 
away  the  stone.  The  tide  of  the  year  was  rising,  soon  j 
to  break  into  the  wonder  of  green  boughs  and  violets,  j 
shimmering  wings  and  singing  winds. 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


79 


Fifth 
Day 


Sixth 
Bay 


April 

Less  materialistic  and  more  finely-grained  than  Man, 
Woman  aspires  toward  things  that  are  often  out  of 
his  reach.  Failing  in  her  aspiration,  confused  by  the 
effort  to  distinguish  the  false  from  the  true,  she  blindly 
clutches  at  the  counterfeit  and  so  loses  the  genuine 
forever. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


This  is  the  eternal  law :  For  every  hour  of  suffering,  j 
we  are  paid  with  abundant  joy ;  for  every  surge  of  our  I 
helpless,  finite  passion,  there  is  a  returning  flow.     For  I 
every  swelling  of  the  heart  comes  a  moment  of  rest ; 
for  every  hour  of  the  night  there  is  one  of  sun. 
Later  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 


80 


April 

BENEATH  THE  GRASS 

To-day  my  heart  keeps  tryst  with  you, 

Remembering  all  you  gave. 
Though  gold  of  April  sun  sifts  through 

Like  star-dust  on  your  grave. 

Where  leaves  sing  on  the  drooping  bough 

And  whispering  waters  pass, 
Do  you  reach  up  to  clasp  me  now, 

Oh,  hands  beneath  the  grass  ? 


Seventh 
Day 


81 


Eighth 
Day 


April 

To  those  to  whom  love  has  come,  beauty  has  come 
also,  but  merely  as  the  reflection  in  the  mirror,  since 
only  love  may  see  and  understand  the  thing  itself. 
Purifying,  uplifting,  and  exalting,  making  sense  the 
humble  servant  and  not  the  tyrannical  master,  renev^ng 
itself  forever  at  divine  fountains  that  do  not  fail ; 
inspiring  to  fresh  sacrifice,  urging  onward  to  new  courage, 
redeeming  all  mistakes  with  its  infinite  pardon,  this, 
indeed,  is  love,  which  neither  dies  nor  grows  old.  And, 
since  God  himself  is  Love,  what  further  assurance  do 
we  require  of  immortality  ? 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


82 


Plinth 
Bay 


April 

<^ 

"  What  must  this  man  be,  to  whom  I  would  surrender 
the  keeping  of  my  heart  ?  .  .  .  Someone  whose 
beauty  only  my  eyes  should  perceive,  whose  valour  only 
I  should  guess  before  there  was  need  to  test  it.  Some- 
one great  of  heart  and  clean  of  mind,  in  whose  eyes 
there  should  never  be  that  which  makes  a  woman 
ashamed.  Someone  fine-libred  and  strong-souled,  not 
above  tenderness  when  a  maid  was  tired.  One  who 
should  make  a  shield  of  his  love,  to  keep  her  not  only 
from  the  great  hurts  but  from  the  little  ones  as  well,  j 
and  yet  with  whom  she  might  fare  onward,  shoulder  | 
to  shoulder,  as  God  meant  mates  should  fare.  J 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 


t 


83 


Tenth 
Bay 


April 

Chivalry  is  not  dead — nor  dying.  A  woman  may 
make  a  knight  of  the  man  who  loves  her,  if  she  only 
will. 

Later  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 

There  is  only  one  path  which  leads  to  the  house  of 
forgiveness — that  of  understanding. 

The  Spinster  Book 


j  "  Love  in  itself  is  not  joy.  It  is  always  service  and 
iit  may  be  sacrifice.  It  means  giving,  not  receiving; 
[asking,  not  answer." 

I  Master  of  the  Vineyard 


84 


Eleventh 
Bay 

April  === 

The  arbitrary  social  distinctions,  made  regardless  of 
personality,  are  often  cruelly  ironical.  Many  a  man, 
incapable  by  nature  of  lifelong  devotion  to  one  woman, 
becomes  a  husband  in  half  an  hour,  duly  sanctioned 
by  Church  and  State.  A  woman  who  remains  un- 
married, because,  with  fine  courage,  she  will  have  her 
true  mate  or  none,  is  called  "  an  old  maid."  She  may 
have  the  heart  of  a  wife  and  the  soul  of  a  mother,  but 
she  cannot  escape  her  sinister  label.  The  real  "  old 
maids  "  are  of  both  sexes  and  many  are  married,  but 
seldom  to  each  other. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


85 


Twelfth 
Day 


April 

MY  DREAM  IS  AT  YOUR  DOOR 

At  night,  when  all  the  world  is  still 
]       And  the  crescent  moon  swings  low. 
With  drowsy  feet  on  the  poppy  hill 

A  little  dream  shall  go ; 
Then  out  beyond  the  silvery  waves 

That  kiss  the  slumber  shore 
And  in  your  sleep  you  '11  smile  because 

My  dream  is  at  your  door. 

'I 

Outside  your  portal  Love  shall  wait. 

His  deep  eyes  wet  with  dew, 
For  through  all  stress  of  Time  or  Fate 

My  life  belongs  to  you ; 
So  lift  your  tender  face  to  mme, 

Give  me  your  lips  once  more. 
Oh,  Sweetheart,  say  you  love  me  when 

My  dream  is  at  your  door ! 


86 


April 

Tears  are  more  powerful  with  a  lover  than  a  club 
can  ever  hope  to  be  with  a  husband. 

In  the  matrimonial  deck,  the  queen  is  more  often 
paired  with  the  knave  than  with  the  king. 


teenth 
Bay 


87 


Foun 

teenth 

Day 


April 


c0i 


AUF  WIEDERSEHEN 
(To  M.  E.  M.  Davis) 

If  you,  who  long  have  breasted  stormy  seas, 

Have  heard  the  "  one  clear  call "  across  the  bar. 
And  dipped  your  colours  from  the  steadfast  spar 

That  held  them,  ever  gallant,  to  the  breeze, 

I  think  the  harbour  lights  and  memories 

Must  keep  us  with  you,  though  you  wander  far 
On  peaceful  waters,  where  a  friendly  star 

Still  beckons  you  to  higher  destinies. 

Brave  heart,  true  heart,  we  will  not  say  good-bye, 
God  speed  you,  with  "  no  sadness  of  farewell," 
To  that  fair  land  which  knows  not  grief  nor  pain ; 
God  give  us  grace  like  yours,  when  soon  we  lie 
Triumphant,  free,  beside  an  outgrown  shell, 
To  wait  His  further  use — "  auf  wiedersehen !  " 


88 


April 


Fifteenth 
Bay 


"  Marriage  means  that  a  man  and  a  woman  whom 
God  meant  to  be  mated  have  found  each  other  at  last. 
It  means  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  that  you 
have  to  face  alone,  that  all  your  joys  are  doubled  and 
all  your  sorrows  shared.  It  means  that  there  is  no 
depth  into  which  you  can  go  alone ;  that  one  other 
hand  is  always  in  yours,  trusting,  clinging,  tender,  to 
help  you  bear  whatever  comes. 

"  It  means  that  the  infinite  love  has  been  given,  in 
part,  to  you,  for  daily  strength  and  comfort.  It  is  a 
balm  for  every  wound,  a  spur  for  every  lagging,  a  sure 
dependence  in  every  weakness,  a  belief  in  every  doubt. 
The  perfect  being  is  neither  man  nor  woman,  but  a 
merging  of  dual  natures  into  a  united  whole.  To  be 
married  gives  a  man  a  woman's  tenderness ;  a  woman, 
a  man's  courage.  The  long  years  stretch  before  them, 
and  what  lies  beyond,  no  one  can  say,  but  they  face 
it,  smiling  and  serene,  because  they  are  together." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 
89 


Sixteenth 
Bay 


Seven.' 
teenth 

Bay 


April 


c2t 

We  cannot  have  more  joy  than  we  give — nor  more 
pain.  The  eternal  balance  swings  true.  The  capac- 
ity for  enjoyment  and  the  capacity  for  suffering  are  one 
and  the  same.  He  who  lives  out  of  the  reach  of 
sorrow  has  sacrificed  his  possible  ecstasy. 

1  The  Spinster  Book 


The  soul  has  its  own  hours  of  Winter  and  Spring. 
Gethsemane  and  Calvary  may  come  to  us  in  the  time 
of  roses,  and  Easter  rise  upon  us  in  a  December  night. 
How  shall  we  know,  in  our  own  agony,  of  another's 
gladness,  or,  on  that  blessed  to-morrow  when  the  struggle 
is  over,  help  someone  else  to  bear  our  own  forgotten 
pain? 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


90 


April 

^  I 

I 

"  When  you  find  your  mate,  you  have  to  go.     The' 
call  is  insistent ;    there   is  no  other    way.     It  means ; 
child-bearing  and  child-loss,  it  means  a  thousand  kinds 
of  pain  that  you  never  knew  before :  loneliness,  doubt, 
sacrifice,  misunderstanding,  and,  always,  the    fear  ofj 
change.     Before,  you  think  of  it  as  a  permanent  bond 
of  happiness ;  later,  you  see  that  it  is  a  yoke,  borne 
unequally.     You  marry  to  keep  love,  but  sometimes 
that  is  the  surest  way  to  lose  it." 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


Eigh-' 
teenth 

Bay 


91 


teenth 
Day 


April 

a? 

Philosophers  laugh  at  woman's  fickleness,  but  her 
constancy,  when  once  awakened,  endures  beyond  life 
and  death  and  even  beyond  betrayal. 

Tht  Spinster  Boo^ 

"  When  a  door  in  your  heart  is  closed,  turn  the  key 
I  and  go  away.     Opening  it  only  brings  pain." 

i 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

"  In  every  life  there  is  a  perfect  moment,  like  a  flash 
;  of  sun.     We  can  shape  our  days  by  that,  if  we  will — ■ 
before,  by  faith;  and  afterward,  by  memory." 

Lavender  and  Old  Lace 


92 


April 

"  Whenever  you  see  a  man  in  a  cemetery,  my  dear, 
you  can  take  it  for  granted  that  he  *s  a  new-made 
widower.  After  the  first  week  or  two,  he  ain't  got 
no  time  to  go  to  no  grave,  he 's  so  busy  lookin'  out  for 
the  next  one." 

Ai  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o* -Lantern 

I  have  often  known  the  unexpected  sight  of  a  rela- 
tive to  produce  cold  perspiration  on  the  skin  of  a  sensi- 
tive, emotional  person. 

The  Book  of  Clever  Beasts 


Ttven* 
tieth 

Bay 


93 


Twenty* 

first 

Bay 


Twenty^ 

second 

Bay 


April 

It  is  only  the  surface  emotion  which  is  relieved  by 

ftears.     Within   the   prison-house  of   the  soul,  when 

« 

Grief,  clad  in  grey  garments,  enters  silently  and  prepares 
to  remain,  there  is  no  weeping.  One  hides  it,  as  the 
Spartan  covered  the  bleeding  wound  in  his  breast. 

The  Master's  Violin 


"  I  Ve  never  been  the  unhappy  sort  of  woman  who 
desires  to  keep  the  year  forever  at  the  Spring.  Each 
season  has  its  own  beauty — ^its  own  charm.  We 
would  tire  of  violets  and  apple-blossoms  if  they  lasted 
always.  Impermanence  is  the  very  essence  of  joy — 
the  drop  of  bitterness  that  enables  one  to  perceive  the 
sweet." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


94 


April 


Twenty- 
third 
Bay 


The  woman  who  longs  for  the  right  to  propose  is 
evidently  not  bright  enough  to  bring  a  man  to  the  point. 

The.  Spinster  Book 

Matrimony  is  the  one  thing  in  the  world  that  concerns 
nobody  but  the  two  who  enter  into  it,  and  it's  the 
thing  that  everybody  has  the  most  to  say  about. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


Twenty' 
fourth 

Day 


God  suits  the  burden  to  the  bearer.  If  you  have 
much  to  bear,  it  is  because  you  are  strong  enough  to  do 
it  nobly  and  well.  Only  the  weak  are  allowed  to 
shirk  and  shift  their  load  to  the  shoulders  of  the  strong. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


95 


Twenty' 
fifth 

^°y  April 

"  Life  is  like  one  of  those  queer  puzzles  that  come  in 
a  box.  It  is  full  of  small  pieces  which  seemingly  bear 
no  relation  to  one  another,  and  yet  there  is  a  way  of 
putting  it  together  into  a  perfect  whole.  Sometimes 
we  make  a  mistake  at;  the  beginning  and  discard  pieces 
for  which  we  think  there  is  no  possible  use.  It  is  only 
at  the  end  that  we  see  we  have  made  a  mistake  and 
put  aside  something  of  much  importance,  but  it  is  always 
too  late  to  go  back — the  pieces  are  gone." 

The  Master's  Violin 


96 


Twenty ' 
sixth 


April  ^ 

cat 

"  Nobody  is  so  much  related  as  twins  are.  Husband 
and  wife  are  only  relatives  by  marriage." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

"  Why  do  we  always  do  for  strangers  what  we  do 
not  willingly  do  for  our  own  flesh  and  blood  ?  " 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 

There  are  a  great  many  men  who  love  their  wives 
simply^  because  they  know  they  would  be  scalped  if 
they  did  n't. 

The  Spinster  Book 


97 


Twenty' 
seventh 

Bay 


April 

cat 

Sometimes,  into  two  hearts  great  enough  to  hold  it, 
and  into  two  souls  where  it  may  forever  abide,  there 
comes  the  Everlasting  Love.  It  is  elemental,  like  fire 
and  the  sea,  with  the  depth  and  splendour  of  the  surge 
and  the  glory  of  the  flame.  It  makes  the  world  a  vast 
cathedral,  in  which  they  two  may  worship,  and  where, 
even  in  the  darkness,  there  is  the  peace  which  passeth 
all  understanding,  because  it  is  of  God. 

When  the  time  of  parting  comes,  for  there  is  always 
that  turning  in  the  road,  the  sadness  is  not  so  great 
because  one  must  go  on  alone.  Life  grows  beautiful 
after  a  time  and  even  wholly  sweet,  when  a  man  and 
a  woman  have  so  lived  and  loved  and  worked  together 
that  death  is  not  "  good-bye,"  but  rather  "  auf  wieder- 
sehen." 

The  Spinster  Book 


98 


April 


Twenty^ 
eighth 

Bay 


THE  CLOSED  WAY 

Dear,  I  have  dreamed — but  the  night  is  done, 

Look  where  the  shadows  flee  ; 
A  gleaming  fabric  the  dawn  has  spun — 

Open  thy  heart  for  me  ! 
The  lovelight  shines  in  thy  glorious  eyes 

As  if  they  knew  my  plea ; 
Ah,  Love,  let  me  enter  that  Paradise — 

Open  thy  heart  for  me ! 

Dear,  it  is  Spring,  and  love  is  aU. 

Behold,  on  bended  knee 
I  pray,  as  the  mating  robins  call, 

Open  thy  sou!  for  me ! 
Let  my  pleading  go  not  astray. 

Through  life  I  will  follow  thee ; 
Yea,  and  more — ah.  Love,  it  is  May — 

Open  thy  soul  for  me ! 


Dear,  it  is  night,  and,  grieving,  I  wait 

For  you,  wherever  you  be ; 
Love  is  not  all — its  master  is  Fate — 

Open  your  grave  for  me  ! 
The  lovelight  shines  in  your  eyes  no  more 

Down  under  the  cypress  tree ; 
I  will  wait — oh.  Love,  but  my  heart  is  sore 

Open  your  grave  for  me ! 


99 


Twenty* 
ninth 

Day 


April 

Emerson  says :  "  The  things  which  are  really  for  thee 
gravitate  to  thee."  One  is  tempted  to  add  the  World's 
Congress  Motto :  "  Not  things,  but  men." 

The  Spinster  BooJ^ 


Thirtieth 
Day 


Were  it  not  for  this  divine  forgetting,  few  of  us 
could  bear  life.  One  can  recall  only  the  fact  of  suffer- 
ing, never  the  suffering  itself.  When  a  sorrow  is  once 
healed,  it  leaves  only  a  tender  memory,  to  come  back, 
perhaps,  in  many  a  twilight  hour,  with  tears  from 
which  the  bitterness  has  been  distilled. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


100 


CHOICE 

The  eyes  of  one  shall  open  on  the  mom 
Where  sunrise  fires  stain  white  peaks  aiax ; 
Another  in  the  valley,  where  no  star 

Breaks  on  the  gloom,  of  sea  and  midnight  bom. 

And  where  the  poppies  riot  through  the  com 

The  one,  unshod,  may  pass  with  wound  nor  scar — 
The  other's  struggling  hands  no  gates  unbeu: ; 

Thus  one  shall  have  the  rose  eind  one  the  thorn. 

If  I  could  choose,  and  could  not  be  denied, 
Thy  way  would  lie  in  many  a  sunny  field 

While  through  the  night  my  thorny  path  would  be ; 
Forever  in  the  dark  would  I  abide 

And  I  would  be  thy  solace  and  thy  shield. 
If  I  could  choose — if  I  could  choose  for  thee ! 

Sonnets  to  a  Lower 


102 


May 


First 
Bay 


"  When  you  've  learned  to  enjoy  seein'  your  husband 
make  a  fool  of  himself,  and  have  got  enough  self-control 
not  to  tell  him  he  's  doin'  it  nor  to  let  him  see  where 
your  pleasure  lies,  you  've  got  marryin'  down  to  a  fine 
point." 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 


Second 
Bay 


Gossip  is  the  social  mosquito. 

The  gossips  and  busy-bodies    would  die  of   mal- 
nutrition were  it  not  for  marriage  and  its  complications. 

"  Silence  and  reserve  will  give  anyone  a  reputation 
for  wisdom." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

103 


Third 
Bay 


May 


"  Gettin  an  idea  into  a  man's  head  is  like  furnishin 
a  room.  If  you  can  once  get  a  piece  of  furniture 
where  you  want  it,  it  can  stay  there  until  it 's  worn  out 
or  busted,  except  for  occasional  dustin'  and  repairin'. 
You  can  add  to  it  from  time  to  time  as  you  have  to, 
but  if  you  attempt  to  refurnish  a  room  that 's  all  fur- 
nished, and  do  it  all  at  once,  you're  bound  to  make 
more  disturbance  than  housecleanin'. 

"  It  has  to  be  done  slow  and  careful,  unless  you  have 
a  likin'  for  rows,  and  if  you  're  one  of  those  kind  of 
women  that 's  forever  changin'  their  minds  about  fur- 
niture and  their  husband's  ideas,  you  're  bound  to  have 
a  terrible  restless  marriage." 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


104 


Fourth 
Bay 


May 


THE  LORELEI 

When  dawn  lies  dim  on  thy  horizon 

Brave  colours  from  the  mast  unfurl, 
And  sail  toward  some  fair  lost  island 

Where  sapphire  surges  break  in  pearl. 
Till  noon  comes  white  upon  the  water 

Reflecting  turquoise  from  the  sky — 
How  silent  is  the  deep  sea's  daughter 

They  call  the  Lorelei! 

Long  shafts  of  sunlight  touch  the  breakers, 

A  thousand  gems  the  bright  waves  hold ; 
Look,  thy  pathway  is  enchanted 

For  all  the  sea  has  turned  to  gold  ! 
Yet  from  the  East's  dim,  distant  chamber 

Where  circling  sea-gulls  slowly  fly, 
The  twilight  comes  and  then  the  darkness 

When  sings  the  Lorelei, 

A  shadow  falls  upon  the  water, 

The  splendour  of  the  day  is  past, 
And  'mid  the  lightning  and  the  thunder 

The  fearful  midnight  cometh  fast ; 
Lured  on  by  strains  so  strangely  tender, 

On  hidden  reefs  the  Captains  die 
And  passing  souls  their  tribute  render 

To  thee,  oh  Lorelei! 


105 


Fifth 
Bay 


Sixth 
Day 


May 

Courtship  is  a  game  that  a  girl  has  to  play  without 
knowing  the  trump.  The  only  way  she  ever  succeeds 
at  it  is  by  playing  to  an  imaginary  trump  of  her  own, 
which  may  be  either  open,  disarming  friendliness,  or 
simple  indifference. 

The  Spinster  Book. 


"  A  gentlewoman  will  always  be  independent  of  her 
servants,  and  there  are  certain  things  no  gentlewoman 
will  trust  her  servants  to  do." 

The  Master's  Violin 


106 


May 


Seventh 
Day 


A  church  fair  is  a  place  where  people  spend  more 
than  they  can  afford  for  things  they  do  not  want,  in 
order  to  please  people  whom  they  do  not  like  and  to 
help  heathen  who  are  happier  than  they  are. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 

Matches  are  not  all  made  in  heaven.  Even  the 
parlour  variety  sometimes  smells  of  brimstone,  and 
Cupid  is  blamed  for  many  which  are  made  by  cupidity. 

The  Spinster  Book 


107 


Eighth 
Day 


May 

at 

"  Have  n*t  you  learned  that  sometimes  we  have  to 
wait ;  that  we  can't  always  be  going  on  ?  Just  moor 
your  soul  at  the  landing-place  and  when  the  hour  comes, 
you  'II  swing  out  into  the  current  again.  Much  of 
the  driftwood  is  only  craft  that  broke  away  from  the 
landing." 
5  Old  Rose  and  Silver 


J\[lnth 
Day 


"  I  have  come  to  see  that  joy  comes  through  what 
we  give,  not  through  what  we  take,  happiness  through 
service,  not  through  being  served,  and  peace  through 
labour,  not  rest." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


108 


May 


Tenth 
Bay 


He  had  come  to  see  that  the  world  is  full  of  kind- 
ness, that  through  the  countless  masks  of  varying 
personalities  all  hearts  beat  in  perfect  unison,  and  that 
joy,  in  reality,  is  immortal,  while  pain  dies  in  a  day. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver  ' 


Eleventh 
Day 


Death  is  the  advertisement,  at  the  end  of  an  auto- 
biography, wherein  people  discover  its  virtues. 

The  Spinster  Bool^ 

"  After  you  once  get  it  into  your  head  that  God  is 
everywhere,  you  can't  be  afraid  because  there 's  nothing 
to  be  afraid  of." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


109 


Twelfth 
Bay 


May 

IN  JAPAN 

Take  me  where  the  fragrant  tea-fields  lie  along  the  sea 

In  Japan,  old  Japan  ; 
Since  there  's  hunger  clutching  at  the  inmost  heart  of  me 
For  Japan,  old  Japan. 

From  the  dusky  sweetness  I  have  been  so  long  away. 
Fain  I  would  be  back  again  where  rippling  waters  play ; 
Take  me  back  to  dear  Japan,  oh,  take  me  back  I  pray 
To  Japan — old  Japan! 

When  I  sip  this  shining  amber  then  it  is  I  dream 

In  Japan,  old  Japan  ; 
Caught  in  gleaming  crystal  all  my  wandering  fancies  seem 
Of  Japan,  old  Japan  ; 

Dainty  geishas  patter  by  in  softest  sandals  shod, 
Drifted  cherry-blossoms  lie  asleep  upon  the  velvet  sod. 
To  the  rice-field's  whispered  music  drowsy  poppies  nod 
In  Japem,  old  Japan. 


110 


May 


Thir- 
teenth 
Day 


It  is  a  way  of  life  and  one  of  its  inmost  compensa- 
tions— this  finding  of  a  reality  so  much  easier  than  our 
fears.  j 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


Four- 
teenth 

Day 


The  world  makes  as  many  saints  as  sinners  and  the 
man  who  needs  to  be  kept  away  from  any  sort  of 
temptation  is  weak  indeed.  There  are  many  of  his 
kind,  but  he  is  the  better  man  in  the  end  who  meets  it 
face  to  face,  fights  with  it  like  a  soldier,  and  wins  like 
a  king. 

The  Spinster  Book 


111 


Fifteenth 
Bay 


May 


"  I  *m  thinking  that  the  life  we  live  is  not  unlike  the 
players.  We  have  each  our  own  instrument,  but  we 
are  not  content  to  follow  as  the  Master  leads.  We  do 
not  like  the  low,  long  notes  that  mean  sadness ;  we  will 
not  take  what  is  meant  for  us,  but  insist  on  the  dancing 
tunes  and  the  light  music  of  pleasure.  It  is  this  that 
makes  the  discord  and  all  the  confusion.  The  Master 
knows  his  meaning,  and  could  we  each  play  our  part 
well,  at  the  right  time,  there  would  be  nothing  wrong 
in  all  the  world." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


112 


Sixteenth 
Day 

May  == 

at' 

If  you  only  wait  and  do  the  best  you  can,  things  all 
work  out  straight  again. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 


Sevens 
teenth 

Bay 


Too  often  the  hungry  soul  mistakes  the  little  love  for 
the  great  and  repines  when  it  is  taken  away,  not  seeing 
that  the  imperious  guest  demands  all  that  is  true  and  in 
return  gives  nothing  that  is  not. 

Later  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 


113 


Eigh' 
tee  nth 

Day 


May 

It  is  un)aelding  Honour  at  the  core  of  things  that 
keeps  them  sound  and  sweet. 

The  Spinster  Book 


J\[ine' 
teenth 

Bay 


God  has  made  it  so  that  love  given  must  unfailingly 
come  back  an  hundred-fold;  the  more  we  give,  the 
richer  we  are.  And  Heaven  is  only  a  place  where 
the  things  that  have  gone  wrong  here  will  at  last 
come  right. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk, 


114 


May 


Twen- 
tieth 

Day 


YOU  WILL  FORGET 

You  will  forget.     The  flowering  tide  of  Spring 
Stands  still  at  flood  ;  the  blossoms  overflow 
For  gladness,  and  beside  that  tender  glow 
Of  life,  you  kiss  me,  yet  I  dumbly  know 

You  will  forget. 

The  Summer  comes.     Ah,  Sweetheart,  love  is  sweet ; 
The  very  breath  of  God  lies  on  the  land ; 
You  draw  me  close  to  you,  but  though  my  hauid 
In  faith  seeks  yours,  I  dimly  understand 
You  will  forget. 

The  earth  grows  chill.     The  banner  of  the  frost 
Flames  gold  and  crimson  in  the  wood.     We  start 
As  from  a  dream,  and,  wondering,  stand  apart. 
Ah,  what  is  this  ?      Hush,  hush,  my  beating  heart — 
You  will  forget. 

Can  I  forget  ?     The  harvest  of  my  soul 

Lies  winnowed  at  your  door.     The  meadow-rue 
V/hich  binds  it  as  of  old  is  not  more  true 
Than  I,  and  yet  I  walk  alone,  while  you — 
You  will  forget. 


115 


Twenty* 

first 

Bay 


May 

Of  the  things  that  make  for  happiness,  the  love  of 
books  comes  first.  No  matter  how  the  world  may 
have  used  us,  sure  solace  lies  there.  The  weary, 
toilsome  day  drags  to  its  disheartening  close,  and  both 
love  and  friendship  have  proved  powerless  to  under- 
stand, but,  in  the  quiet  corner,  consolation  can  always 
be  found.  A  single  shelf,  perhaps,  suffices  for  one's 
few  treasures,  but  who  shall  say  it  is  not  enough  ? 

The  Master's  Violin 


116 


May 

"  Many  a  woman  mistakes  the  flaws  in  a  man's 
character  for  the  ravages  of  the  tender  passion — before 
marriage." 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


Twenty' 
second 

Day 


Twenty- 

third 

Day 


Revolution  is  obstructed  evolution. 

If  possession  be  nine  points  of  the  law,  hanging  to 
those  nine  like  grim  death  is  the  other  one. 


117 


Twenty^ 
fourth 

Bay 


May 


"  Before  marriage,  a  woman  spends  all  her  life 
waiting  for  her  husband.  After  marriage,  she  spends 
three-quarters  of  it  in  the  same  way." 

The  Book  of  Clever  Beasts 

Nothing  strengthens  a  woman's  self-conlidence  like 
a  proposal.  One  is  a  wonder,  two  a  superfluity,  and 
three  an  epidemic.  Four  are  proof  of  unusual  charm, 
five  go  to  the  head,  and  it  is  a  rare  giri  whom  six  or 
seven  will  not  permanently  spoil. 

The  Spinster  Book 


118 


May 


Twenty'^ 
fifth 

Bay 


c2f 

"  We  are  never  young  but  once  and  Youth  asks  no 
greater  privilege  than  to  fight  its  own  battles.  It  is 
mistaken  kindness  to  shield — it  weakens  one  in  the 
years  to  come." 

The  Master's  Violin 


Twenty' 
sixth 

Day 


No  matter  how  one's  heart  aches,  one  can  do  the 
necessary  things  and  do  them  well. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


119 


Twenty* 

seventh 

Bay 


Twenty' 
eighth 

Day 


May 


"  It  is  bad  manners  to  contradict  a  guest.  You 
must  never  insult  people  in  your  own  house — always 
go  to  theirs." 

The.  Book  of  Clever  Beasts 


While  muscles  develop  and  strengthen  with  use,  the 
slender  fibres  of  sentiment  do  not.  The  violence  of  an 
affection  ultimately  impairs  it. 

Love  Affairs  of  Literary  Men 

It  is  possible  for  a  spinster  to  be  disappointed  in 
lovers,  but  only  the  married  are  ever  disappointed  in  love. 

The  Spinster  Book 


120 


May 

Love,  like  a  child,  is  man's  to  give  and  woman's  to 
keep,  to  guard,  to  nourish,  to  suffer  for,  and,  perhaps, 
last  of  all,  to  lose. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Twenty^ 
ninth 

Day 


Thirtieth 
Day 


True  lovers  are  as  certain  to  return  as  Bo-Peep's 
flock  or  a  systematically  deported  cat.  Shamefaced, 
but  surely,  the  man  comes  back. 

The  Spinster  Book 


121 


Thirty^ 
first 

Bay 


May 

Longing,  from  the  day  of  her  birth,  for  love,  she 
spends  herself  prodigally  in  the  effort  to  find  it,  little 
guessing,  sometimes,  that  it  is  not  the  most  obvious 
thing  Man  has  to  offer.  With  colour  and  scent  and 
silken  sheen,  she  makes  a  lure  of  her  body ;  she  makes 
temptation  of  her  hands  and  face  and  weaves  it  with 
her  hair.  She  flatters,  pleads,  cajoles,  denies  only  that 
she  may  yield,  sets  free  in  order  to  summon  back,  and 
calls,  so  that  when  he  has  answered  she  may  preserve 
a  mystifying  silence.  She  affects  a  thousand  arts  that 
in  her  heart  she  despises,  pretends  to  housewifery  that 
she  hates,  forces  herself  to  play  tunes  when  she  has  no 
gift  for  music,  and  chatters  glibly  of  independence  when 
she  has  none  at  all. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


122 


WAITING 

Sometimes,  when  sunset  skies  are  overcast, 
And  I  have  lived  my  day  as  best  I  know, 
I  fall  to  dreaming,  and  remember  so 

The  golden  hours  that  shimmered  as  they  passed. 

Sometimes,  when  tired  eyes  are  filling  fast, 

I  hear  thy  footfalls  near  me,  hushed  auid  slow ; 
I  feel  thy  kiss  upon  my  haind  and  grow 

Tow2u:d  the  calm  of  perfect  peace  at  leist. 

Sometimes  my  lonely  soul  cries  out  for  thee, 

My  hungry  heart  pleads  for  thee,  deep  within. 

Then  once  again  I  hear  thy  dear  voice  caD. 

Ah,  Sweetheart !     Say  that  in  Eternity  i 

God  gives  us  back  these  long-lost  years  and  in 

A  blinding  instant  we  shall  find  them  all ! 

Sonnets  to  a  Lover 


124 


June 

Art  thou  in  doubt?  Then  let  thy  straining  eyes 
look  up  to  the  Star  of  Faith.  Art  thou  disheartened  ? 
The  light  of  new  courage  shall  shine  upon  thee  there. 
Art  thou  sorrowful  ?  Put  by  thy  rue  and  gather  the 
Life  Everlasting. 

haitr  Looe  Letters  of  a  Musician 


First 
Day 


Second 
Day 


Sociability  is  a  fruitful  cause  of  disagreement — 
people  who  are  not  upon  speaking  terms  do  not 
quarrel. 


125 


Third 
Bay 


Fourth 
Bay 


June 

She  was  closely  housed  and  constantly  at  work,  but 
her  mind  soared  free.  When  the  poverty  and  ugliness 
of  her  surroundings  oppressed  her  beauty-loving  soul ; 
when  her  lingers  ached  and  the  stitches  blurred  into 
mist  before  her  eyes,  some  little  brown  book,  much 
worn,  had  often  given  her  the  key  to  the  House  of 
Content. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


"  Matrimonial  traits  are  the  result  of  pre-nuptial 
tendencies.  If  you  look  carefully  into  the  subject 
before  you  Ve  married,  you  can  see  about  what  you  're 
coming  to." 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


126 


Fifth 
Day 


June 


Happy  are  they  who  can  drown  all  pain,  sorrow, 
and  disappointment  in  a  copious  flood  of  tears. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J acJ^-o* -Lantern 

Men  are  as  impervious  to  tears  and  pleadings  as  a 
good  mackintosh  to  mist,  but  at  the  touch  of  indifference 
they  melt  like  wax. 

The  Spinster  Book 


Sixth 
Day 


When  the  last  word  is  said,  content  is  a  matter  of 
temperament  rather  than  circumstance,  and,  for  each 
earthly  blessing,  the  price  must  inevitably  be  paid. 

Love  Affairs  of  Literary  Men 


127 


Seventh 
Day 


June 

"  Whatever  is  past  is  over  and  I  'm  thinking  you 
have  no  more  to  do  with  it  than  a  butterfly  has  with 
the  empty  chrysalis  from  which  he  came.  The  law 
of  life  is  growth,  and  we  cannot  linger — we  must 
always  be  going  on." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


Eighth 
Day 


"  Some  people  are  happier  when  they  're  miserable. 
I  don't  mean,  dearie,  that  it 's  easy  for  any  of  us,  and 
it 's  harder  for  some  than  for  others,  all  because  we 
never  grow  up.  We  're  always  children — our  play- 
things are  a  little  different — that 's  all." 

Lavender  and  Old  Lace 
128 


Minth 
Day 

June  = 

A  GYPSY  SONG 

Over  the  hill  and  through  the  plain 

The  road,  like  a  ribbon  of  dusty  grey, 
Winds  past  fields  of  budding  grain 

And  meadows  sweet  with  unmown  hay ; 

Like  children  singing  at  their  play 
To  the  lilt  and  laugh  of  a  vagrant  rune, 

There  bands  of  roving  gypsies  stray — 
Ho  for  the  road  and  the  days  of  June ! 

The  meadow-lark,  with  soft  refrain. 

Sings  in  the  clover  the  livelong  day, 
And  the  robin-lover  chants  again 

His  unforgotten  hymn  of  May ; 

Against  the  turquoise  sky  a  spray 
Of  apple-blossoms  shines  at  noon. 

Breathing  scent  too  sweet  to  stay — 
Ho  for  the  road  and  the  days  of  June ! 

The  rover  builds  his  castles  in  Spam 

For  none  may  tell  the  dreamer  nay, 
Through  shadow,  sun,  or  summer  rain 

His  heart  still  beats  to  the  gypsy  lay ; 

Oh,  Prince  of  Poverty,  show  us  the  way 
To  find  and  follow  the  magic  tune ; 

Give  us  the  charm,  and  teach  us  to  say 
Ho  for  the  road  and  the  days  of  June ! 


129 


Tenth 
Day 


June 

It  is  the  sadness  of  life  that  there  is  never  any  going 
back.  The  Hour,  with  its  opportunity,  its  own  indi- 
viducJ  beauty,  comes  but  once.  The  hand  takes  out 
of  the  crystal  pool  as  much  water  as  the  tiny,  curved 
cup  of  the  palm  will  hold.  The  shining  drops,  each 
one  perfect  in  itself,  and  changing  color  with  the  shift- 
ing of  the  light,  fall  through  the  fingers  back  into  the 
pool,  with  a  faint  suggestion  of  music  in  the  sound. 
The  circle  widens  outward  and  presently  the  water  is 
still  again.  If  one  could  go  back,  gather  from  the  pool 
those  same  shining  drops,  made  into  jewels  by  the 
light,  which,  at  the  moment,  is  also  changing,  one 
might  go  back  to  the  Hour. 

The  Master's  Violin 


130 


Eleventh 
Day 

June  ===== 

It  is  a  love  so  vast  and  far-reaching  that  there  is  no 
place  where  it  is  not;  it  enfolds  not  only  our  little 
world,  poised  in  infinite  space  like  a  mote  in  a  sunbeam, 
but  all  the  shining,  rolling  worlds  beyond.  Every  star 
that  rises  within  our  sight,  and  all  the  million  stars 
beyond,  in  misty  distances  so  great  as  to  be  incompre- 
hensible, are  guided  and  surrounded  by  this  same  love. 
It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  a  place  where  it  is  not ; 
even  in  the  midst  of  pain,  poverty,  suffering,  and  death, 
God's  love  is  there  also. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk, 


131 


Twelfth 
Day 


Thin 
teenth 

Day 


June 

A  man  whom  a  dog  will  trust  is  never  wholly  bad. 

A  man  may  mean  what  he  says — at  the  time  he 
says  it — but  men  and  seasons  change. 

The  Spinster  Book 


Men  have  led  and  women  followed  since,  back  in 
Paradise,  the  First  Woman  gave  her  hand  to  the  First 
Man  that  he  might  lead  her  wherever  he  would. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


132 


June 


Four' 
teenth 

Day 


"  *T  is  a  hard  world  for  women,  Laddie.  I  'm 
thinking  't  is  no  wonder  they  grow  suspicious  at  times." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 

"If  I  loved  a  woman,  I  would  protect  her  at  the 
risk  of  my  own  life,  my  own  happiness,  my  own  soul. 
If  I  loved  a  woman,  she  should  think  of  me  in  just  one 
way — as  her  shield." 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


133 


Fifteenth 
Day 


Sixteenth 
Day 


June 

So  far  as  man  is  of  the  earth,  earthy,  by  the  earth 
and  its  fruits  may  he  be  healed,  but  the  heavenly  part 
of  him  may  be  ministered  unto  only  by  the  angels  of 
God. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


The  soul  capable  of  ecstasy  and  transport  must  pay 
its  price  in  suffering ;  he  who  walks  upon  the  heights 
must  sometimes  grovel  in  the  dust. 

Love  Affairs  of  Literary  Men 

**  No  one  sees  another  in  the  House  of  the  Broken 
Heart.  Each  one  is  absorbed  in  his  own  grief  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  else." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


134 


June 

There  is  a  secret  compensation  which  clings  to  the 
commonest  affairs  of  life.  One  sees  before  him  a 
mountain  of  toil,  an  apparently  endless  drudgery  from 
which  there  is  no  escape.  Having  once  begun  it,  an 
interest  appears  unexpectedly ;  new  forces  ally  them- 
selves with  the  fumbling  hands.  Misfortunes  come, 
"  not  singly,  but  in  battalions."  After  the  first  shock 
of  realisation,  one  perceives  through  the  darkness  that 
the  strength  to  bear  them  has  come  also,  like  some 
good  angel. 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


Seven' 
tee  nth 

Bay 


135 


Eigh' 
teenth 

^^^  June 

THE  CITY  OF  DREAMS 

There  *s  a  river  that  flows  to  a  lullaby  song 

Where  the  blue  water  twinkles  and  gleeims, 
For  the  surge  of  it  sings  as  it  ripples  along 

To  the  beautiful  City  of  Dreams. 
No  hearts  ever  ache  on  that  lily-lmed  shore 

When  the  wind  down  the  river  is  fair, 
For  the  wandering  feet  on  that  far-away  street 

Have  forgotten  their  toil  and  their  care. 

The  cloud-capped  towers  are  silvery  white 

And  wonderful  stories  are  told, 
For  to  the  Dream  City  comes  never  a  night 

Save  sunset  of  crimson  and  gold ; 
The  jangle  and  jar  and  fret  of  the  day 

Are  lost  in  a  Summer-sweet  strain, 
And  when  the  bees  hum,  hushed  melodies  come 

Like  the  murmur  of  wind  through  the  grain. 

The  lotus  blooms  sweet  on  the  river  to-day 

And  the  South  wind  blows  cool  from  the  sea ; 
Afar  in  the  harbour  the  stately  ships  sway 

And  there  's  one  'mid  the  lilies  for  me  ; 
The  poppies  run  wild  through  the  wheat  on  the  shore 

And  the  gates  of  the  City  unbar 
When  there  shmes  on  the  crest  of  a  cloud  in  the  West 

The  dusk-shaded  lamp  of  a  star. 


136 


teenth 

June  f^ 

For  days,  for  months,  even,  no  single  action  may  be 
significant,  and  again,  upon  another  day,  a  thoughtless 
word,  or  even  a  look,  may  be  as  a  pebble  cast  into 
deep  waters,  to  reach  by  means  of  ever-widening 
circles  some  distant,  unseen  shore. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Ttvew 
tieth 

Day 


Married  and  unmarried  women  waste  a  great  deal 
of  time  in  feeling  sorry  for  each  other. 

The  Spinster  Book 


137 


Twenty 
first 

^^^  June 

When  the  book-lover  enters  his  library,  no  matter 
what  storm  and  tumult  may  be  in  his  heart,  he  has 
come  to  the  inmost  chamber  of  Peace.  The  indescrib- 
able musty  odour  which  breathes  from  the  printed  page 
is  fragrant  incense  to  him  who  loves  his  books.  In 
unseemly  caskets  his  treasures  may  be  hidden,  yet, 
when  the  cover  is  reverently  lifted,  the  jewels  shine 
with  no  fading  light.  The  old,  immortal  beauty  is  still 
there,  for  anyone  who  seeks  it  in  the  right  way. 
At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 


138 


June 

Of 

Making  an  issue  of  a  little  thing  is  one  of  the  surest 
ways  to  spoil  happiness.  One's  personal  pride  is  felt 
to  be  vitally  injured  by  surrender,  but  there  is  no 
quality  of  human  nature  so  nearly  royal  as  the  ability 
to  yield  gracefully.  It  shows  small  confidence  in  one's 
own  nature  to  fear  that  compromise  lessens  self-control. 
To  consider  constantly  the  comfort  and  happiness  of 
another  is  not  a  sign  of  weakness,  but  a  sign  of  strength. 

The  Spinster  Bool^ 


Twenty' 
second 

Day 


139 


Twenty' 
third 

^^^  June 

a? 

In  making  herself  "  all  things  to  all  men,"  Woman 
loses  her  own  individuality  and  becomes  no  more  than 
a  harp  which  any  passing  hand  may  strike  to  quick 
response.  To  one  man  she  is  a  sage,  to  another  an 
incarnate  temptation,  to  another  a  sensible  business-like 
person,  to  another  a  frothy  bit  of  frivolity.  To  one 
man  she  is  the  guardian  of  his  ideals,  as  Elaine  in  her 
high  tower  kept  Launcelot's  shield  bright  for  him ;  to 
another  she  is  what  he  very  vaguely  terms  "  a  good 
fellow,'*  wath  a  discriminating  taste  in  cigarettes  and 
champagne. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


140 


Twenty^ 
fourth 

June  ^^y 

It  was  a  wise  hostess  who  discovered  the  fact  that 
changing  rooms  may  change  moods ;  that  many  a 
successful  dinner  has  an  aftermath  as  cold  and  dismal 
as  a  party  call.  The  hour  after  dinner  is  often  the 
stick  of  a  sky-rocket,  which  never  fails  to  return  and 
bring  disillusion  with  it. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

Twenty^ 

fifth 
Day 

We  are  wont  to  speak  of  woman's  tenderness,  but 
there  is  no  tenderness  like  that  of  a  man  for  the  woman 
he  loves  when  she  is  tired  or  troubled,  and  the  man 
who  has  learned  simply  to  love  a  woman  at  crucial 
moments,  and  to  postpone  the  inevitable  idiotic 
questioning  till  a  more  auspicious  time,  has  in  his  hands 
the  talisman  of  domestic  felicity. 

The  Spinster  Bool^ 
141 


Twenty* 
sixth 

Bay 


\ 


June 

at 

THE  EMPTY  ROOM 

Some  day  your  open  heart  will  close  to  me 
So  gently  that  at  first  I  shall  not  know 
My  place  is  mine  no  longer — that  I  go 

Tear-blinded  then  on  paths  I  may  not  see. 

This  little  room,  to  which  I  hold  the  key, 
Warms  aU  your  life,  as  from  a  crimson  glow 
That  flames  afar  upon  a  world  of  snow, 

And  yet  the  closing  door  shall  make  you  free. 

Dear,  when  the  roses  have  gone  back  to  dust. 
When  every  kiss  has  died  and  touch  that  thrilled. 
When  broken,  scattered  crystal  holds  no  wine ; 
Will  you  remember  once  our  love  and  trust. 
And  let  this  little  empty  room  be  fiUed 

With  never-dying  fragrance  that  was  mine  ? 


142 


June 


Twenty' 
seventh 

Bay 


One  of  love's  divinest  gifts  is  the  power  to  bestow 
beauty  wherever  it  goes.  .  .  .  For  the  beauty  of 
the  spirit  may  transfigure  its  earth-bound  temple,  as 
some  vast  and  grey  cathedral,  with  light  streaming 
from  its  stained-glass  windows  and  eloquent  with 
chimes  and  singing,  may  breathe  incense  and  bene- 
diction upon  every  passer-by. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Twenty- 
eighth 

Day 


"  I  '11  tell  you  right  now,  my  dear,  that  if  there  was 
more  honeymoons  took    beforehand    to  each    other's 
folks,  there  'd  be  less  marryin'  done  than  what  there  is." 
At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 


143 


Twenty^ 
ninth 

Day 


June 

Woman's  chains  are  of  her  own  forging  and  anchor 
her  to  the  eternal  verities  of  earth  and  heaven. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

If  all  men  were  lovers,  there  would  be  no  "  new 
woman"  movement,  no  sociological  studies  of  "Woman 
in  Business,"  no  ponderous  analyses  of  "  The  Industrial 
Condition  of  Woman  "  in  weighty  journals. 

The  Spinster  Book 


144 


June 


"  After  you  once  get  an  idea  into  a  man's  head,  it 
stays  put.  You  can't  never  get  it  out  again.  And 
ideas  that  other  people  puts  in  is  just  the  same." 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 

The  complexities  in  man's  personal  equation  are 
caused  by  variants  of  three  emotions :  a  mutable  fond- 
ness for  w^omen,  according  to  temperament  and  oppor- 
tunity, a  more  uniform  feeling  toward  money,  and 
the  universal,  devastating  desire — the  old,  old  passion 
for  food. 

The  Spinster  Bool^ 


Thirtieth 
Day 


145 


THE  LAST  TIME 

Some  day  the  slanting  sunbeams  on  the  floor 
To  one  of  us  will  give  no  kindly  light. 
For  all  the  world  will  change  to  darkest  night 

The  hour  the  Reaper  pauses  at  our  door ; 

Some  day  a  heart  that  hungers,  stabbed  and  sore, 
Will  strive  to  bear  its  bitter  cross  aright ; 
With  hands  that  falter,  and  with  dimming  sight 

The  one  will  seek  the  other  evermore. 

So  let  each  word  be  tender,  and  the  touch. 
So  gentle,  grow  each  day  more  gentle  still, 
For  Love's  dear  day  will  vanish  eJl  too  fast ; 
And,  at  the  end,  since  we  have  loved  so  much, 
A  Imgering  peace  the  sore  heart  may  distil — 
Remembering  the  kiss  that  was  the  last. 

Sonnets  to  a  Lover 


148 


ness.' 


First 
Day 

July  = 

Pedestals  are  always  lonely. 

"  Freedom  is  the  great  gift — and  the  great  loneli- 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 

People  who  are  wedded  to  their  art  sometimes  get 
a  divorce  without  asking  for  it. 

Better  a  thousand  times  that  marriage  should  spoil  a 
career  than  for  the  career  to  spoil  marriage. 

Fame  is  a  laurel  wreath  laid  upon  a  tomb. 


149 


Second 
Bay 


J^iy 


"  Since  Adam  and  Eve  were  placed  in  the  Garden 
of  Eden,  women  have  been  home-makers,  and  men 
have  been  home-builders.  All  the  work  in  the  world 
is  directly  and  immediately  undertaken  for  the  main- 
tenance and  betterment  of  the  home.  A  woman  who 
has  no  love  for  it  is  unsexed.  God  probably  knew 
how  He  wanted  it — at  least  we  may  pardoned  for 
supposing  that  He  did." 

The  Master's  Violin 


150 


Third 
Day 

July  == 

There  Is  nothing  so  dead  as  a  woman's  dead  love. 
When  the  fire  goes  out  and  no  single  ember  is  left, 
the  ashes  are  past  the  power  of  flame  to  rekindle. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


Fourth 
Day 


Fortunately,  age  does  not  affect  literature.  Even 
after  a  man  is  dead,  he  may  continue  in  the  business 
and  often  rank  higher  than  his  living  competitors. 

The  Book  of  Clever  Beasts 


151 


Fifth 
Bay 


July 


ATTAR  OF  ROSES 

Within  the  garden  roses  bloom, 

Their  petals  peeirled  with  dew, 
And  there  amid  the  twilight  gloom 

I  go  to  dream  of  you  ; 
Upon  my  weary  wayworn  path 

So  like  a  rose  you  lay 
I  caught  you  to  my  hungry  heart 

Nor  guessed  you  could  not  stay. 

Withm  a  chalice,  crystal  clear, 

The  souls  of  roses  hide ; 
In  some  far  Persiein  garden,  dear. 

These  fragrant  flowers  died — 
And  when  the  chalice  breaks,  the  scent 

Is  scattered  on  the  air. 

So  from  my  broken  heart  there  breathes  i 

1 

This  rose  I  could  not  wear. 


152 


July 


Sixth 
Bay 


When  a  man  seeks  a  woman's  society,  it  is  because 
he  has  need  of  her — not  because  he  thinks  she  has 
need  of  him. 

The  Spinster  Book 


Seventh 
Day 


Absence  may  make  a  woman's  heart  grow  fonder, 
but  it  is  presence  that  plays  the  mischief  with  a  man. 
No  wise  girl  would  accept  a  man  who  proposed  by 
moonlight  or  just  after  dinner.  The  dear  things  are  n't 
themselves  then. 

The  Spinster  Book 


153 


Eighth 
Bay 


J\[inth 
Day 


July 

Anger  is  a  better  weapon  than  tears ;  a  burr  com- 
mands more  respect  than  a  sensitive  plant. 

There   is  always  one  way  to  make  anybody   do 
anything^ — the  trouble  is  to  find  it. 


"  I  think  that  the  Ideal  consists  in  minding  your  own 
business  and  gently  but  firmly  assisting  others  to  mind 
theirs." 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o* -Lantern 


154 


"  The  more  love  you  give,  the  more  you  have.  It 
is,  in  a  way,  like  the  old  legend  of  the  man  who  found 
he  could  take  to  heaven  with  him  only  those  things 
which  he  had  given  away." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Tenth 
Day 


Eleventh 
Day 


Next  to  burglars,  mice,  and  green  worms,  every 
normal  girl  fears  a  widow.  Courtships  have  been 
upset  and  expected  proposals  have  vanished  into  thin 
air,  simply  because  a  widow  has  come  into  the  game. 
There  is  only  one  thing  to  do  in  such  a  case :  retreat 
gracefully,  and  leave  the  field  to  her. 

The  Spinster  Book 


155 


Twelfth 
Day 


"You  may  think  men  folks  is  all  different,  but 
there  's  a  dretful  sameness  to  'em  after  they  Ve  been 
through  a  marriage  ceremony.  Marriage  is  just  like 
findin'  a  new  penny  on  the  walk.  When  you  first  see 
it,  it  *s  all  shiny  and  a'most  like  gold,  an*  it  tickles  you 
most  to  pieces  to  think  you  're  gettin'  it,  but  after  you  've 
picked  it  up,  you  see  that  what  you  've  got  is  half  wdld 
Indian,  or  mebbe  more — I  ain't  never  been  in  no  mint. 
You  may  depend  upon  it,  my  dear,  there  's  two  sides 
to  all  of  us,  and  before  marriage  you  see  the  wreath — 
afterwards  a  savage." 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 


156 


All  of  time  and  eternity  may  be  imprisoned  in  a 
single  heart — the  Infinite  is  love  and  a  grave. 

Love  Affairs  of  Literary  Men 


Thin 
teenth 

Day 


"  Poets  may  find  new  w^ords  for  it,  but  there  is 
nothing  else  for  a  man  to  say.  Just  those  three  words, 
'  I  love  you,'  to  hold  the  universe  and  to  measure  it,  for 
there  is  nothing  else  worth  keeping  in  all  the  world." 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


157 


Four' 
teenth 

Bay 


July 

"We  may  be  happy  or  not,  just  as  we  choose. 
Happiness  is  not  a  circumstance,  nor  a  set  of  circum- 
stances ;  it 's  only  a  light  and  we  may  keep  it  burning 
if  we  will.  So  many  of  us  are  like  children,  crying  for 
the  moon,  instead  of  playing  contentedly  with  the  few 
toys  we  have.  We  're  always  hoping  for  something, 
and  when  it  does  n't  come  we  fret  and  worry.  When 
it  does,  why,  there 's  always  something  else  we  'd 
rather  have.  We  deliberately  make  nearly  all  of  our 
unhappiness,  with  our  own  unreasonable  discontent, 
but  nothing  will  ever  make  us  happy,  dearie,  except 
the  spirit  wdthin." 

Lavender  and  Old  Lace 


158 


Fifteenth 
Day 


July 

A  woman  is  never  old  until  the  little  finger  of  her 
glove  is  allowed  to  project  beyond  the  finger  itself,  and 
she  orders  her  new  photographs  from  an  old  plate  in 
preference  to  sitting  again. 

The.  Spinster  Book 


Sixteenth 
Day 


From  the  crucible  of  Eternity,  Time,  the  magician, 
draws  the  days.  Some  are  wholly  made  of  beauty ; 
of  wide  sunlit  reaches  and  cool  silences.  Some  of 
dreams  and  twilight,  with  roses  breathing  fragrance 
through  the  dusk.  Some  of  darkness,  wild  and  terri- 
ble, lighted  only  by  a  single  star.  Others  still  of  riving 
lightnings  and  vast,  reverberating  thunders,  while  the 
heart,  swelled  to  bursting,  breaks  on  the  the  reef  of 
Pain. 

The  Master's  Vio  in 
159 


Seven* 
teenth 
Day 


A  man's  affection  is  regulated  by  his  digestion. 

Serious  indeed  is  a  passion  which  obscures  a  man's 
regard  for  his  dinner ! 

Lo})e  Affairs  of  Literary  Men 

It  is  a  simple  thing  to  acquire  a  lover,  but  it  is  a  fine 
art  to  keep  him. 

The  Spinster  Book 


It  is  as  important  to  clothe  the  lay-figure  as  it  is  to 
feed  the  brute. 


160 


cat 

REINCARNATION 

We  must  have  loved  each  other  long  ago 

In  some  far  time  when  this  old  w^orld  was  young; 
Perchance  we  spoke  in  some  forgotten  tongue 

In  lost  lands  under  seas  that  ebb  and  flow. 

And  some  day,  too,  your  dust  and  mine  will  blow  ' 
On  winds  of  Fate  where  once  we  kissed  and  clung, 
Yet  this  immortal  rapture  must  have  sprung 

From  hidden  fountains  only  gods  may  know. 

Dust  unto  dust,  in  all  the  ways  of  earth —  I 

You  hold  me  in  your  arms  but  for  a  day  | 

Then,  like  a  sundering  sword,  night  bids  us  pcirl ; 

And  yet  we  smile,  for  in  another  birth  •' 

We  two  shall  love  in  just  this  same  dear  way — 

Your  lips  on  mine,  my  heart  against  your  heart 


Eigh' 
teenth 

Bay 


161 


teenth 
Day 


July 

"  I  often  think  that  in  Heaven  we  may  have  a  chance 
to  pay  our  debt  to  w^oman.  Through  woman's  agony 
we  come  into  the  world,  by  woman's  care  we  are 
nourished,  by  woman's  wisdom  we  are  taught,  by 
woman's  love  we  are  sheltered,  and,  at  the  last,  it  is  a 
woman  who  closes  our  eyes.  At  every  crisis  of  a 
man's  life,  a  woman  is  always  waiting,  to  help  him  if 
she  may,  and  I  have  seen  that  at  any  crisis  in  a  woman's 
life  we  are  apt  to  draw  back  and  shirk.  She  helps  us 
bear  our  difficulties ;  she  faces  hers  alone." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


162 


July 
at 

"  When  we  come  to  the  sundown  road,  we  need  all 
the  love  we  have  managed  to  take  with  us  from  the 
summit  of  the  hill." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

As  truly  as  she  needs  her  bread  and  meat,  woman 
needs  love,  and,  did  he  but  know  it,  man  needs  it,  too, 
though  in  lesser  degree. 

The  Spinster  Book 


Tweri' 

tieth 

Day 


% 


163 


Twenty* 
first 

°°^  July 

"  Take  It  with  your  head  up,  your  teeth  shut,  and 
your  heart  always  believing.  Fear  nothing,  and  much 
will  be  given  back  to  you — is  it  not  so  ?  Let  life  do 
all  it  can — you  will  never  be  crushed  unless  you  are 
willing  that  it  should  be  so.  Defeat  comes  only  to 
those  who  invite  it." 

The  Master's  Violin 


164 


July 


Twenty^ 
second 

Bay 


at 

"  It  seems  as  if  God  made  us  for  each  other  in  the 
beginning  but  kept  us  apart,  and,  even  after  we  met,  it 
was  n't  much  better  until  all  at  once  there  was  a  light 
and  then  we  knew.  It  seems  as  if  I  never  could  be 
miserable  or  out  of  sorts  again ;  as  if  everything  was 
right  and  always  would  be,  that  whatever  came  to  me, 
you  *d  help  me  bear  it,  and  always  you  'd  be  my 
shield." 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


165 


Twenty* 

third 

Bay 


July 

It  is  passion  that  cries  out  for  continual  assurance, 
for  fresh  sacrifices,  for  new  proof.  Love  needs  nothing 
but  itself ;  it  asks  for  nothing  but  to  give  itself ;  it  denies 
nothing,  neither  barriers  nor  the  grave.  Love  can 
wait  until  life  comes  to  its  end  and  trust  to  eternity, 
because  it  is  of  God. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


166 


July 


Twenty^ 
fourth 

Bay 


C^ 


She  frequently  said  she  had  everything  a  husband 
could  have  given  her  except  a  lot  of  trouble. 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 

A  widow's  degree  of  blandishment  is  conservatively 
estimated  at  twenty-five  spinster  power. 

The  Spinster  Book  /iftfi 


Twenty 
fifth 

Bay 


"  No  one  can  solve  a  problem  for  another,  but  I 
think,  when  it 's  time  to  act,  one  knows  what  to  do 
and  the  way  is  clearly  opened  for  one  to  do  it." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


167 


Twenty^ 
sixth 

Bay 


July 


c2f 


ROSES  AND  RUE 

I  sit  in  the  shadow  alone,  sweetheart ; 

Your  roses  are  scenting  the  air, 
And  I  dream  of  the  time  when  you  promised  me, 

Down  in  the  garden  there. 
Marigolds,  hollyhocks,  prince's  feather. 

Bent  their  heads  in  the  dim,  sweet  light. 
As  under  the  willow-tree — don't  you  remember  ? 

I  kissed  you  and  said  good-night. 

Ah,  sweetheart  mine,  with  half-sad  eyes. 

We  have  had  our  measure  of  rue  ; 
The  skies  were  dark  and  the  skies  were  fair. 

But  I  knew  you  forever  were  true ; 
And  now,  as  I  sit  in  the  dark  alone, 

I  would  give  the  world  to  know 
The  way  through  the  wood  to  the  far-off  field 

Where  the  simples  for  heeirtache  grow. 

Love  fades,  they  say,  when  the  pulse  is  old. 

And  I  am  three-score  and  ten. 
But  to-night,  with  its  bitter  surge  of  loss. 

Lies  far  beyond  their  ken  ; 
For  to-morrow  they  hide  you  away,  sweethccirt. 

In  the  garden,  out  of  my  sight. 
So  I  lift  up  the  roses — God's  roses — ciround  you ; 

And  kiss  you,  and  say  good-night ! 


168 


"  That  is  the  great  tragedy  of  life,  things  can  never 
be  as  they  were  before.  Sometimes  they  're  worse, 
sometimes  better,  but  the  world  is  never  the  same." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


Twenty* 
seventh 

Day 


Twenty- 
eighth 

Day 


Let  man  ask  what  he  will  and  woman  will  give  it, 
praying  only  that  somewhere  she  may  come  upon  love. 
She  adapts  herself  to  him  as  water  adapts  itself  to  the 
shape  of  the  vessel  in  which  it  is  placed.  She  dare 
not  assert  herself,  or  be  herself,  lest,  in  some  way,  she 
should  lose  her  grasp  upon  the  counterfeit  which  largely 
takes  the  place  of  love. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


169 


Twenty- 
ninth 

Bay 


July 


^ 


"  Have  you  not  seen  that  you  can  never  have  sorrow 
iintil  you  have  first  had  joy  ?  Happiness  is  the  light 
and  sadness  the  shade." 

Thirtieth  A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 

Day 


Thirty^ 

first 

Day 


Love  is  the  root  of  everything  good  in  all  the  world, 
and  where  things  are  wrong,  it  is  only  because  some- 
time, somewhere,  there  has  not  been  enough  love. 
The  balance  has  been  uneven  and  some  have  had  too 
much  while  others  were  starving  for  it.  As  the  lack 
I  of  food  stunts  the  body,  so  the  denial  of  love  warps 
the  soul. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


"When  an  insurmountable  obstacle  presents  itself, 
sometimes  there  is  an  easy  way  around  it." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 
170 


LOVE'S  AFTERNOON 

The  sunset  radiance  on  far  heights  has  lain, 

And  in  hushed  murmur  flows  the  singing  stream ; 
Amid  the  maples  Autumn  splendours  gleam, 

And  shadows  slowly  creep  upon  the  plain, 

Soft  purple  dusk  lies  on  the  fields  of  grain. 

And  whispered  notes  from  drowsy  robins  seem 
Like  distant  echoes  from  the  hills  of  dream. 

Or  like  the  cadence  of  an  April  rain. 

If  Love  like  dawn  and  moming  fades  away, 
If  only  once  there  comes  this  thing  sublime,    - 
If  Love's  sweet  year  holds  but  a  single  June — 
I  will  not  ask  from  God  another  day 

Nor  plead  for  Spring  again  at  harvest-time. 

But  walk  toward  night  with  thee,  through  afternoon. 

Sonnets  to  a  Lover 


172 


First 
Day 

August  

i  Someone  who  is  dear  to  thee  hath  entered  upon  the 
ilong  sleep,  but  art  thou  alone  in  this  ?  A  day  like 
{thine  must  come  to  all.  Someone  upon  whom  thy 
j  soul  leaned  is  lost,  but  art  thou  alone  ?  The  shimmer- 
ling  veil  of  estrangement  hangs  ever  between  human 
i  hearts. 

I      Thou  hast  only  to  wait   and  that  which  is  truly 
I  thine  own  shall  come  back  to  thee  unchanged  and 
I  sweeter  '^or  the  long  absence.     And  in  the  grave  hast 
;  thou   placed   thine  all?     Hath  not  Mnemosyne  left    \ 
!  thee  sweet  days  and  tender  thoughts?     Unless  thou 

ihast  this  consolation,  thou  hast  suffered  no  loss. 
Later  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 


173 


Second 
Bay 


August 

A  man  capable  of  leading  a  regiment  in  a  gallant 
charge  will  not  infrequently  be  like  wax  in  the  hands 
of  the  woman  he  loves. 

Love  Affairs  of  Literary  Men 


Third 
Day 


Before  marriage,  man  is  a  low  and  useless  trump, 
but  afterward  he  is  ace  high  in  the  game. 

The  Spinster  Book 


True  sympathy  is  possible  only  when  the  season  of 
one  soul  accords  with  that  of  another,  or  else  when 
memory,  divinely  tender,  brings  back  a  vivid,  scarlet 
hour  out  of  grey,  forgotten  days,  to  enable  us  to  share, 
with  another,  our  own  full  measure  of  sorrow  or  of  joy. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


174 


Fourth 
Day 

August  === 

"One  step  forward  wherever   there  is  a  foothold, 
and  trust  to  God  for  the  next." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Fifth 
Day 


"There  is  nothing  in  all  the  world  that  means  so 
much  as  that  one  word  *  together,'  and  when  you  add 
'love'  to  it,  you  have  heaven,  for  God  Himself  can 
give  no  more  joy  than  to  bring  together  two  who  love, 
never  to  part  again." 

Flower  of  the  Dusf^ 


175 


Sixth 
Bay 


August 

4 

"  It  is  not  for  you  to  say  whether  or  not  anything 
is  worthy  when  it  has  once  been  given  you  to  do. 
You  have  only  to  do  it  and  make  it  worthy  by  the 
doing.  When  you  have  proved  yourself  capable, 
another  task  will  be  given  you,  but  not  before." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Seventh 
Day 


Doing  the  things  which  ought  not  to  be  done  never 
loses  fascination  and  charm.  The  rare  pleasure  thus 
obtained  far  exceeds  the  enjoyment  of  leaving  undone 
things  which  ought  not  to  be  done.  Sins  of  commission 
are  far  more  productive  of  happiness  than  the  sins  of 
omission. 

The  Spinster  Book 


176 


Eighth 
Bay 


August 

A  SUMMER  SPELL 

A  load  of  hay  in  the  street  to-day — 

I  close  my  eyes,  and  the  old  dreams  throng 
Back  to  the  time  when  the  world  was  May 
And  I  hear  the  rush  of  the  robin's  song ; 
My  drifted  years  of  grief  and  wrong, 

And  my  heart,  with  its  rue  and  asphodel. 
Grow  mute  with  love,  in  the  old  sweet  way. 
At  the  mystic  touch  of  the  Summer  spell. 

A  load  of  hay  in  the  street  to-day — 
A  hint  of  rain  in  the  sun-sweet  air, 

A  clover-scent  in  the  flash  of  spray. 
And  the  face  of  her  who  waited  there 
With  the  clover  bound  in  her  sunny  hair. 

And  the  winnowed  fields  that  the  Autumn  brings- 

Oh,  Life  and  Love !     How  far  away 

j         From  the  soul  that  longs  for  thy  whisperings ! 

A  load  of  hay  in  the  street  to-day — 

And  the  tears  fall  fast  in  the  dark  to-night. 
For  the  Summer  spell  has  gone  astray. 
Making  sorrow  and  breathing  blight ; 
Bringing  Winter  instead  of  the  might 
Of  blossoming  May  and  the  violet  sod. 
For  I  sit  alone,  in  the  shadows  grey, 

And  dream  of  her — in  the  fields  of  God. 

177 


J\[inth 
Day 


Tenth 
Day 


August 

It  is  Nature's  unfailing  charm  that  she  responds  readily 
to  every  mood  and  ultimately  brings  extremes  to  a 
common  level  of  quiet  cheerfulness. 

The.  Master's  Violin 


Life,  that  mystery  of  mysteries  !  The  silence  at  the 
end  and  the  beginning  is  easier  far  to  understand  than 
the  rainbovs^  that  arches  between.  Man,  the  epitome 
of  his  forbears — more  than  that,  the  epitome  of  creation, 
— stands  by  himself,  the  riddle  of  the  universe. 

The  Master's  Violin 


178 


August 

at 

If  man  and  woman  must  go  through  the  world 
together,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  meeting  the  same  troubles, 
the  same  difficulties  and  dangers,  why,  oh,  why  did  n't 
God  make  us  of  the  same  clay  I  We  are  different  in 
a  thousand  ways ;  we  act  in  opposite  directions  from 
differing  and  incomprehensible  motives — our  point  of 
view  is  instinctively  different,  and  yet  we  are  chained. 
Sex  against  sex  it  has  been  since  the  world  began — 
sex  against  sex  it  shall  be  to  the  bitter  end ! 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


Eleventh 
Bay 


179 


Twelfth 
Day 


August 

Whatever  is  may  not  be  right,  but  it  is  the  outcome 
of  deep  and  far-reaching  forces  with  which  our  finite 
hands  may  not  meddle.  The  problem  has  but  one 
solution— adjustment.  Hedged  in  by  the  iron  bars  of 
circumstance  as  surely  as  a  bird  within  his  cage,  it 
remains  for  the  individual  to  choose  whether  he  will 
beat  his  wdngs  against  the  bars  until  he  dies,  or  take 
his  place  serenely  upon  the  perch  ordzdned  for  him — 
and  sing. 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


180 


teenth 

August  ^^ 

**  You  have  only  one  day  at  a  time  to  live.  Get  all  ! 
ithe  content  you  can  out  of  it,  and  let  the  rest  wait,  like  | 
a  bud,  till  the  sun  of  to-morrow  shows  you  the  rose."    ; 

The  Master's  Violin 


Foun 
teenth 

Bay 


"  The  conventions  of  society  are  all  in  the  interests 
of  morality.  If  you're  conventional,  you'll  be  good, 
in  a  negative  sense,  of  course." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


181 


Fifteenth 
Bay 


August 

Love  is  a  lottery  in  which  a  lover  is  a  capital  prize 
and  a  husband  is  a  blank. 

Marriage  is  a  game  of  euchre  in  which  either  hearts 
or  diamonds  are  trumps,  and  in  which  one  player 
always  fails  to  score. 

Married  women  will  sob  out  their  unhappiness  on  a 
girl's  shoulder,  and  the  next  week  ask  her  why  she 
does  n't  get  married. 


182 


sixteenth 
Day 


Jiugust 

MY  PRINCE 

I  have  dreamed  of  him  for  many  a  day 

Who  should  come  with  a  stately  train. 
Banners  and  jewels  and  flashing  steel 

And  silks  that  in  roses  have  lain ; 
I  have  heard  the  tread  of  the  marshalled  feet 

And  the  trumpets  of  triumph  that  sing 
Of  a  thousand  thrones,  a  thousand  crowns 

Won  by  my  prince — my  king. 

I  have  seen  the  battle-stained  flag  unfurled — 

Ah,  me !     How  I  dreamed  of  the  day 
When  my  prince  should  leave  the  flaming  field 

To  carry  my  heart  away ; 
I  have  listened  with  joy  to  his  tender  speech 

And  forgotten  his  kingly  grace. 
When  the  lovelight  shone  in  my  lover's  eyes 

And  transfigured  his  gracious  face. 

He  came,  but  the  trumpets  sounded  not 

Of  conquered  crown  or  throne ; 
With  never  a  gleam  of  jewel  or  sword 

He  claimed  my  life  for  his  own. 
No  stately  train  wound  the  pathways  through 

Its  majesty  to  lend — 
Ah,  Prince  of  my  Heart !     I  found  you  at  last 

Where  I  never  dreamed — in  a  friend. 


183 


Seven' 
teenth 
Bay 


August 

It  may  be  pleasant  to  be  a  man's  first  love,  but  a 
wise  woman  will  prefer  to  be  his  last. 

There  is  no  more  delicate  compliment  to  a  first 
marriage  than  a  second  alliance. 

The  great  charm  of  marriage,  as  of  life  itself,  is  its 
unexpectedness.  The  only  way  to  test  a  man  is  to 
marry  him.  If  you  live,  it 's  a  mushroom,  and  if  you 
die,  it 's  a  toadstool. 


184 


Eigh' 
teenth 

August  ^^y 


The  way  upon  which  we  are  meant  to  go  is  always! 
clear,  or  at  least  indicated,  at  the  time  we  are  meant  to  ' 
take  it,  and  guidance  is  definitely  felt  through  the  soul's 
own  overpowering  conviction. 


Master  of  the  Vineyard 


J\[ine- 
teenth 

Day 


"  Having  seen  all  the  trouble  men  make  in  the  world, 
I  should  think  women  would  know  enough  to  keep 
away  from  'em,  but  they  don't — that  is,  some  women 
don't. " 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


185 


Twen* 
tieth 

Day 


Twenty^ 

first 

Bay 


August 

Outside  herself  was  a  mass  of  circumstance  beyond 
her  control,  but  within  herself  was  the  power  of 
adjustment,  as  when  two  dominant  notes  are  given, 
the  choice  of  the  third  makes  either  dissonance  or 
harmony. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Fate  may  deny  me  love,  but  not  loving. 

Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 

Loving  is  the    highest  form  of   praise;   envy,  the 
lowest. 


Love  means    not   only  infinite   giving,  but   infinite 


forgiving. 


186 


Twenty^ 

second 

I>ay 

August  ____ 

The  daughter  of  to-day  endeavours  to  be  worthy  of 
the  knightly  worship,  to  be  royal  in  her  heart  and 
queenly  in  her  giving,  to  be  the  exquisitely  womanly 
woman  he  sees  behind  her  faulty  clay,  so  that  if  the 
veil  of  illusion  he  has  woven  around  her  should  ever 
fall  away,  the  reality  might  be  even  fairer  than  his 
dream. 

The  Spinster  Book 

Twenty 

third 

Day 

No  woman  need  fear  the  effect  of  absence  upon  the 
man  who  honestly  loves  her.  The  needle  of  the  com- 
pass, regardless  of  intervening  seas,  points  forever 
toward  the  north.  Pitiful  indeed  is  she  who  fails  to 
be  a  magnet  and  blindly  becomes  a  chain. 

The  Spinster  Book 
187 


Twenty^ 
fourth 

Bay 


Jlugust 

The  doubting  in  her  heart  was  forever  stilled  and  in 
its  place  was  a  great  peace.  There  was  an  unspeak- 
able tenderness  and  a  measureless  compassion,  so  wide 
and  so  deep  that  it  sheltered  all  the  world,  for,  strangely 
enough,  the  love  of  the  many  comes  first  with  the  love 
of  the  one. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o* -Lantern 


Twenty' 
fifth 

Day 


There  is  nothing  in  all  the  world  as  harmless  and  as 
utterly  joyous  as  man's  conceit.  The  woman  who  will 
not  pander  to  it  is  ungracious  indeed. 

The  Spinster  Book 


188 


August 


Twenty- 
sixth 

Bay 


C» 


THE  PATH 

We  know  not  where  our  hidden  way  may  lie, 

What  stress  and  storm  the  coming  years  may  hold ; 

The  midday  heats  and  midnights  drear  and  cold 
May  meet  us  on  our  journey  far  or  nigh — 
Yet  step  by  step  we  go,  till  bye  and  bye 

The  mystic  tapestries  of  Fate  unfold ; 

When  weary  past  believing,  grey  and  old, 
We  reach  the  end  together — thou  and  I. 

On  eyes  grown  dim  the  mists  of  blindness  creep. 
The  pulse  moves  slower  still,  and  sorrows  fade. 
But  even  then  we  may  not  understand ; 
Yet  God  still  giveth  His  beloved  sleep — 

Oh,  Heart  of  Mine,  why  should  we  be  afraid 
If  only  night  may  find  us  hand  in  hand ! 

Sonnets  to  a  Lover 


189 


Twenty^ 
seventh 

°°y  August 

\  Only  wait  a  little  time  and  what  was  disappointment 
i  shall  be  seen  as  blessing.  By  Some  Day's  magic 
touch,  loss  shall  become  gain. 

Later  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 


There  is  only  one  relation  in  lire  which  may  not  be 
formed  again — that  between  a  mother  and  her  child. 

'jif..*.-. 

The  Spinster  Book. 


190 


Twenty- 
eighth 


August  ^ 

* 

"  Perhaps  if  we  lived  rightly,  if  our  faith  were  stronger, 
death  would  not  rend  our  hearts  as  it  does.  It  is  the 
common  lot,  the  universal  leveller,  and  soon  or  late  it 
comes  to  us  all.  It  remains  to  make  our  spiritual  | 
adjustment  accord  with  the  inevitable  fact.  There  is  | 
so  little  that  we  can  change  that  it  behooves  us  to 
confine  our  efforts  to  ourselves." 

The.  Master's   Violin 


Twenty^ 
ninth 

Bay 


The  spirit  in  which  one  earns  his  daily  bread  means 
as  much  to  his.  soul  as  the  bread  itself  may  mean  to  his 
body. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


191 


Thirtieth 
Day 


August 

The  woman's  part  is  always  to  wait  while  men 
achieve,  and  she  who  has  learned  to  wait  patiently  and 
be  happy  meanwhile,  has  learned  the  finest  art  of  all — 
the  art  of  life. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 

A  woman  wants  a  man  to  love  her  in  the  way  she 
loves  him ;  a  man  wants  a  woman  to  love  him  in  the 
way  he  loves  her,  and  because  the  thing  is  impossible, 
neither  is  satisfied. 

The  Spinster  Book 


192 


Thirty 
first 

August  ^^y 

No  man  ever  reached  the  heights  unless  he  felt  the 
touch  of  some  good  woman's  fingers,  and  no  man's 
life  has  been  strong  unless  he  knew  of  that  sweet 
sculpturing. 

From  the  day  of  his  birth  to  the  gate  of  his  grave, 
that  hand  is  his  ministering  angel.  It  soothes  his 
childish  fretting  and  closes  his  eyes  in  his  last  slum- 
ber. When  he  is  in  despair,  it  bids  him  take  heart 
again,  and  when  his  body  is  racked  with  pain,  it  lies 
with  soft  coolness  on  his  fevered  face  and  charms  the 
pain  away. 

It  unlocks  the  door  of  glory  and  bids  him  win  those 
honours  of  which  Fame  keeps  the  key.  It  reaches  out 
across  the  dark  to  touch  him  wdth  gentle  consolation, 
and  it  always  thrills  him  with  its  sweet  tenderness. 
Holding  fast  to  that  offered  hand,  man  has  climbed 
from  the  depths  step  by  step,  blessing  the  gracious 
womanliness  that  offered  it. 

hoiie.  Letters  of  a  Musician 

193 


September 


THE  HOUSE  OF  PAIN 

Pain  rears  her  castles  where  the  mighty  dwell, 

And  side  by  side  with  them  the  humblest  kneel ; 

The  trembling  hands  that  grope  in  daricness  feel 
Unyieldmg  walls  around  their  prison  cell. 
She  sits  amid  her  rue  emd  asphodel 

With  sorrow  on  her  distaff  auid  her  reel ; 

Forever  toiling  at  her  loom  and  wheel 
With  warp  and  woof  she  weaves  her  grievous  spell. 

And  yet  a  captive  in  lorn  garments  clad, 
Who  with  uplifted  face  goes  singing  by 

Has  sometimes  changed  a  bitter  loss  to  gain  ; 
For  God  so  strangely  mingles  sweet  with  sad 
That  in  the  thorns  a  hidden  rose  may  lie, 
And  love  lives  ever  in  the  House  of  Pain. 

Sonnets  to  a  Lover 


196 


First 
Day 

September 


c2t 

Love  is  the  heart  in  blossom. 


Love  has  nothing  to  do  with  sense,  being  wholly  of 
the  soul. 


Master  of  the  Vineyard 


To  those  who  love,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  death. 
'  A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


Death  changes  nothing — it  is  only  life  that  separates 
utterly. 

The  Spinster  Book 


197 


Second 
Day 


September 

We  are  as  ships  that  go  down  to  the  sea.  Some  are 
destined  for  calm  waters  and  smooth  sailing,  others  for 
rocks  and  the  storm.  Some,  who  are  pitifully  weak, 
are  mercifully  spared  the  trial ;  to  others,  strong  enough 
to  face  the  breakers,  the  joy  of  the  struggle  is  denied. 
There  are  some  who  meet  the  rush  of  waters  without 
fear  and  find  triumph  doubly  sweet  in  the  end. 
Love  Affairs  of  Literary  Men 


198 


Third 
Bay 

September  

"  Before  you  have  finished,  the  world  will  do  to  youj 
one  of  three  things:  It  will  make  your  heart  veryj 
soft,  very  hard,  or  else  break  it.     No  one  escapes." 

The  Master's  Violin 


Fourth 
Bay 


"  Sometimes  I  am  conscious  of  two  selves.     One  of 
me  is  a  nice  polite  person  that  I  'm  really  fond  of,  and , 

the  other  is  so  contrary  and  so  mulish  that  I  'm  actually  ; 

i 

afraid  of  her." 

Lavender  and  Old  Lace 


199 


Fifth 
Day 


September 

"  When  every  man's  face  was  set  against  you,  did 
you  never  have  a  dog  to  trust  you  ?  When  there  was 
never  a  man  nor  a  woman  you  could  call  your  friend, 
did  a  dog  never  come  to  you  and  lick  your  hand? 
When  you  've  been  bent  with  grief  you  could  n't  stand 
up  under,  did  a  dog  never  come  to  you  and  put  his 
cold  nose  on  your  face  ?  Did  a  dog  never  reach  out  a 
friendly  paw  to  tell  you  that  you  were  not  alone — that 
it  was  you  two  together?  .  .  .  Man,  man,  the 
world  has  fair  been  cruel  if  you  Ve  never  known  the 
love  of  a  dog  ! " 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


200 


Sixth 
Bay 

September  

It  is  difficult  for  two  people  to  be  happy  in  a  large 
house ;  they  need  the  cosiness  established  by  walls  not 
too  far  apart,  ceilings  not  too  high,  and  the  necessary 
furniture  not  too  widely  separated.  A  single  row  of 
books,  within  easy  reach,  may  hint  of  companionship 
not  possible  to  the  great  bookcase  across  the  room. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


Seventh 
Day 


There  comes  a  time  to  most  of  us  when  the  single 
prop  gives  way,  and,  absolutely  alone,  we  either  stand 
or  fall.  Thus,  in  the  hard  school  of  life,  sooner  or 
!  later,  one  learns  self-reliance.  She  began  to  perceive 
that,  in  the  end,  she  could  depend  upon  no  one  but 
herself. 

The  Master's  Violin 


201 


Eighth 
Day 


September 

BLUE  EYES  AND  BROWN 

Over  the  wheat  the  south  wind  swept, 

Far  off  from  the  dusty  town, 
Where  one  maid  looked  into  eyes  of  blue. 

The  other  in  eyes  of  brown. 

Over  the  wheat,  like  a  flash  of  sun, 

A  yellow  oriole  flew  ; 
Where  one  maid  looked  into  eyes  of  brown. 

The  other  in  eyes  of  blue. 

The  brown  eyes  shone  'neath  a  poppy  wreath, 

The  blue  were  shaded  with  wheat ; 
And  the  wind  and  the  oriole  heard  the  words : 

"  I  love  you  !     Sweet,  sweet,  sweet !  " 

But  neither  the  wind  nor  the  oriole  told, 

For  the  maidens'  years  were  few ; 
*T  was  the  little  dog's  eyes  that  were  brown,  you  know, 

And  the  kitten's  eyes  were  blue ! 


202 


^linth 
Bay 

September 

"  There  are  different  kinds  of  strength,  and  of  these 
the  one  most  prized  is  what  we  call  endurance,  for 
lack  of  a  better  word.  One  can  always  bear  a  little 
more,  for  we  live  only  one  day  at  a  time,  and  to-morrow 
may  bring  us  new  gifts  of  which  we  do  not  dream." 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


Tenth 
Bay 


Womankind  suffers  from  three  delusions :  marriage 
will  reform  a  man,  a  rejected  lover  is  heart-broken  for 
life,  and  if  the  other  woman  were  only  out  of  the  way, 
he  would  come  back. 


203 


Eleventh 
Bay 


September 

"  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  married.  .  .  .  It 's 
to  be  always  with  the  one  you  love  and  never  to  mind 
what  anybody  else  says  or  does.  It's  to  help  each 
other  bear  everything  and  be  twice  as  happy  because 
you  're  together.  It  means  that  somebody  will  always 
help  you  when  things  go  wrong,  and  there  '11  always  be 
something  you  can  lean  upon.  You  '11  never  be  afraid 
of  anything,  because  you  're  together." 

A  spinner  in  the  Sun 


204 


Twelfth 
Day 

September  ^'^^^ 

"  Our  minister  used  to  say  that  there  was  no  disci- 
pline for  the  soul  like  livin'  with  folks,  year  in  and  year 
out,  hand-runnin'." 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 

A  woman  marries  in  the  hope  of  having  a  lifelong 
lover,  and  discovers,  too  late,  that  she  merely  has  a 
boarder  who  is  most  difficult  to  please. 

The  Spinster  Bool^ 


205 


teenth 
Day 


Four' 

teenth 

Bay 


September 


When  God  made  the  world,  He  put  love  in,  and 
none  of  it  has  ever  been  lost.  It  is  simply  transferred 
from  one  person  to  another.  Sometimes  it  takes  a  differ- 
ent form  and  becomes  a  deed  which,  at  first,  may  not 
look  as  if  it  were  made  of  love,  but,  in  reality,  is. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


"  Some  women  are  born  to  be  married,  some  achieve 
marriage,  and  others  have  marriage  thrust  upon  them." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


206 


Fifteenth 
Day 

September 

She  did  not  need  to  ask  whether  he  loved  her,  for, 
unerringly,  she  knew.  Mated  past  all  power  of 
change,  they  two  were  one  henceforward,  though  seas 
should  roll  between.  Mated  through  suffering  as  well, 
for  in  this  new  bond,  as  she  dimly  perceived,  there  was 
great  possibility  of  hurt.  Yet  there  was  no  end  or  no 
beginning ;  it  simply  was,  and  at  last  she  knew. 
At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern. 


207 


Sixteenth 
Day 


September 

FLOWER  O*  THE  CORN  \ 

Autumn  lay  upon  the  land,  her  purple  splendours  weaving, 

Where  goldenrod  and  asters  had  set  the  hills  aflame, 
And  through  the  rustling  cornfield,  in  beauty  past  believing. 

Where  scarlet  poppies  drifted,  you  came,  Sweetheart,  you 
came ! 
Then  all  my  world  was  music  and  my  joyous  heart  was  singing 

A  strain  as  sweet  as  fairies  drew  from  elfland's  silver  horn ; 
But  sobbing  minors  changed  the  song  while  triumph  still  was 
ringing. 

For  lo,  thy  path  lies  not  with  mine,  my  flower  o'  the  com. 

Flower  o*  the  com,  with  petals  crushed  and  bleeding. 

Give  rest  at  last  for  me  and  mine  beyond  this  vale  of  tears ; 
Behold,  our  hearts  are  broken  and  our  eyes   are  blind  with 
pleading,  . 

See  how  our  feet  grow  slow  upon  the  thorny  path  of  years ! 
\  Flower  o'  the  com,  I  pray,  of  sore  remembrance  shrive  me, 
I       I  would  forget  the  stone  and  snare  upon  the  way  I  trod  ; 
Flower  o*  the  com,  I  pray,  from  thy  bruised  chalice  give  me 
That  peace  we  may  not  understand  because  it  is  of  God.       j 

208 


Seven.' 
teenth 

September  ^^ 

There  is  no  woman  who  does  not  hold  within  her 
little  hands  some  man's  achievement,  some  man  s 
future,  and  his  belief  in  woman  and  God.  '  \ 

She  may  fire  him  with  high  ambition,  exalt  him  with 
noble  striving,  or  make  him  a  coward  and  a  thief.; 
She  may  show  him  the  way  to  the  gold  of  the  world,; 
or  blind  him  with  tinsel  which  he  may  not  keep.  It  is 
she  who  leads  him  to  the  door  of  glory  and  so  thrills 
him  with  majestic  purpose  that  nothing  this  side  of 
Heaven  seems  beyond  his  eager  reach.  f 

Upon  his  heart  she  may   write  ecstasy  or   black 
despair.     Through  the  long  night  she  may  ever  beckon,  i 
whispering  courage,  and  by  her  magic  making  victory ' 
of  defeat.     It  is  for  her  to  say  whether  his  face  shall  | 
be  world-scarred  and  weary,  hiding  tragedy  behind  its  \ 
piteous  lines ;  whether  there  shall  be  light  or  darkness  / 
in  his  soul.     He  cannot  escape  those  soft,  compelling 
fingers,  she  is  the  arbiter  of  his  destiny,  for,  like  clay  irt 
the  potter's  hands,  she  moulds  him  as  she  will. 

The  Spinster  Book 


209 


Eigh' 
teenth 

Day 


September 

Of 

No  man  fails  except  by  his  own  choice." 

Nothing  worth  while  is  ever  done  without  work.* 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


"  Wherever  one  may  be,  that  is  the    best  place. 
The  dear  God  knows." 

The  Master's  Violin 


210 


September 

DREAM-FIELDS 

Over  the  day  and  past  the  night. 
Half  in  shadow  and  half  in  light, 
So  cool  and  green  to  our  tired  sight, 

The  dream-fields  bud  and  blow. 
Sweet  with  the  breath  of  a  thousand  Sprmgs, 
Swept  by  a  thousand  shadowy  wings. 
Aflame  with  a  thousand  beautiful  things 

That  only  dreamers  know. 

The  violets  of  that  lost  year 

Are  just  as  blue  and  sweet  and  near 

As  on  that  day  you  kissed  them.  Dear, 

And  then  these  lips  of  mine ; 

I  watch  the  lovelight  in  your  eyes 

And  so  forget,  in  Paradise,  I 

The  gulf  of  years  to-day  that  lies- 

;      Between  your  heart  and  mine.i 

Ah,  dear  lost  Love  !     The  dream-fields  glow 
With  Spring,  and  I — I  love  you  so ! 
While  you  go  on  and  never  know ; 

Yet  I  may  dream,  and  then — 
My  hungry  lips  will  speak  and  say 
"  Forgive  me  !  '*  but  1  weep  to-day 
And  only  wait,  and  dumbly  pray 

That  1  may  drejun  agab  1  / 


211 


J\[ine' 
teenth 

Day 


Twen» 

tieth 

Bay 


September 

"  We  have  all  the  time  there  is." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

"It's  a  great  mistake  to  try  to  live  to-morrow,  or 
even  yesterday,  to-day." 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


\         "  When  one  has  learned  to  wait  patiently,  one  has 
I    learned  to  live."  1 

The  Master's  Violin 


212 


Twenty* 
first 

September  ^^^ 


C0t 

Having  the  gift  of  detachment  immeasurably  beyond 
woman,  man  may  separate  himself  from  his  grief,  con- 
template it  calmly  in  its  various  phases,  and,  with  a 
mighty  effort,  throw  it  aside.  Woman,  on  the  contrary, 
hugs  hers  close  to  her  aching  breast  and  remorselessly 
turns  the  knife  in  the  wound.  It  is  she  who  keeps! 
anniversaries,  walks  in  cemeteries,  wears  mourning,  andj 
preserves  trifles  that  sorrowfully  have  outlasted  the  love' 
that  gave  them. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


213 


Twenty^ 
second 

^^y  September 

As  you  can  take  your  heart  in  the  hollow  of  your 
hand  and  hold  it,  it  is  so  small  a  thing,  so  the  one  word 
"  love  "  holds  everything  that  can  be  said  or  given  or 
hungered  for,  or  prayed  for  and  denied. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 

Man  wins  love  by  pleading  for  it,  and  there  is  no 
way  by  which  a  womcin  may  more  surely  lose  it,  for 
while  woman's  pity  is  closely  akin  to  love,  man's  pity 
is  a  poor  relation  who  wears  Love's  cast-off  clothes. 

The  Spinster  Book 


214 


September 


Twenty^ 

third 

Bay 


Attempting  to  bind  the  Everlasting  with  her  own 
limitations,  her  own  desires,  she  had  failed  to  see  that 
at  least  half  of  a  rightful  prayer  must  deal  with  herself. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Twenty - 
fourth 

Day 


"Nothing  in  this  whole  world  is  free  but  the  sun 
and  the  fresh  air  and  the  water  to  drink.  We  must 
pay  the  fair  price  for  all  else." 

The  Master's  Violin 


215 


Twenty' 
fifth 

Bay 


September 

A  sense  of  humour  is  a  saving  grace  for  anybody. 
Next  to  love,  it 's  the  finest  gift  of  the  gods. 

A  spinner  in  the  Sun 


Twenty^ 
sixth 

Bay 


Nothing  so  pleases  a  woman  safely  inside  the  bonds 
of  holy  matrimony  as  to  confide  her  sorrows,  her  regrets, 
and  her  broken  ideals  to  her  unattached  friends. 
Many  a  woman  thinks  her  ideal  is  broken  when  it  is 
only  sprained,  but  the  effect  is  the  same. 

The  Spinster  Book 


The  body  grows  slowly,  but  the  soul  progresses  by 
leaps  and  bounds.  Through  a  single  hurt  or  a  single 
joy,  the  soul  of  a  child  may  reach  man's  estate,  never 
to  go  backward,  but  always  on. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 
216 


Twenty' 
seventh 

September  Day 

THE  BURDEN-BEARER 

The  way  winds  steep,  where  white  heats  burn  and  glare; 

No  coolmg  stream  wbds  'neath  a  drooping  tree, 

Nor  any  bird  breathes  forth  faint  melody 
Where  jagged  rocks  and  tortuous  cliffs  lie  bare  ; 
And  yet  these  paths  my  faltering  feet  must  dare, 

Alone  forever,  so,  on  bended  knee, 
I  take  my  load,  and,  with  a  dumb  despair. 

Accept  the  burdens  others  shift  to  me. 

Mine,  since  I  bear  them — mine,  because  I  must 
Unto  this  last  be  faithful,  though  alone. 

Nor  seek  for  recompense  of  joy  from  woe ; 
Lord,  fill  my  darkened,  doubting  soul  with  trust, 
Give  me  the  strength  for  burdens  not  my  own, 
A  valiauit  heaurt — and  light  by  which  to  go ! 


217 


Twenty  i 
eighth 

Bay 


September 


Twenty- 
ninth 

Bay 


OS 

"  When  a  woman  closes  a  man's  heart  against  those 
of  his  own  blood,  the  one  door  she  has  left  open  will 
some  day  be  slammed  in  her  own  face.  Then  the 
other  doors  will  swing  ajar,  turning  slowly  on  rusty 
hinges,  but  the  women  for  whom  they  are  opened  will 
never  cross  the  threshold  again." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


When  a  girl  systematically  and  effectively  feeds  a 
man,  she  is  leading  trumps.  ...  If  the  wise  one  is 
an  expert  with  the  chafing-dish,  she  may  frequently 
bag  desirable  game,  while  the  foolish  virgins  who  have 
no  alcohol  in  their  lamps  are  hunting  eagerly  for  the 
trail. 

The  Spinster  Book 
218 


Thirtieth 
Day 

September  '^'''^'^^ 

Have  not  our  houses,  mute  as  they  are,  their  own 
way  of  conveying  an  impression  ?     One  may  go  into  a 
house  which  has  been  empty  for  a  long  time  and  yet 
;    feel,  instinctively,  what  sort  of  people  were  last  sheltered  | 
there.     The  silent  walls  breathe  a  message  to  each ; 
visitor,  and  as  the  footfalls  echo  in  the  bare,  cheerless  | 
rooms,  one  discovers  where  Sorrow  and  Trouble  had 
their  abode,  and  where  the  light,  careless  laughter  of  i 
gay  Bohemia  lingered  until  dawn.     At  night,  who  has  \ 
not  heard  ghostly  steps  upon  the  stairs,  the  soft  closing  | 
of  unseen  doors,  the  tapping  on  a  window,  and,  per- 
chance, a  sigh  or  the  sound  of  tears?     Timid  souls 
may  shudder  and  be  afraid,  but  wiser  folk  smile,  with 
reminiscent  tenderness,  when  the  old  house  dreams. 

Lavender  and  Old  Lace 


219 


October 


WEAVING 


A  sombre  web  Is  laid  upon  my  loom 

Where  for  a  little  space  my  hands  must  weave 
Whatever  pattern  passing  Fate  may  leave 

Upon  the  threshold  of  my  darkened  room. 

No  roses  'neath  my  tremblmg  lingers  bloom. 
Loose  threads  and  errors  I  cannot  retrieve, 
And  ever  with  a  sore  despair  I  grieve, 

For  stars  have  never  broken  on  my  gloom. 

When  at  the  last  my  tears  have  ceased  to  flow. 
When  life-tides  wait  forever  at  the  ebb 
And  Master  hands  my  tapestries  unroll. 
From  pleading  lips  the  cry  will  come,  I  know : 
"  Dear  God,  forgive  !     In  that  uneven  web 
There  lies  enmeshed  a  lovmg  woman's  soul ! ' 

Sonnets  to  a  Lover 


111 


First 
Bay 

October  

ox 

Jealousy  is  the  mother-in-law  of  selfishness. 

The  Spinster  Book 

Nagging  is  allopathic  scolding  in  homoeopathic  doses. 

Marriage  itself  guarantees  nothing  in  the  way  of  love. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 

A  truth,  posing  "  in  the  altogether,"  is  sometimes 
mistaken  for  an  epigram. 


223 


Second 
Day 


-  October 

"  Somewhere  on  the  great  world  the  sun  is  always 
shining,  and  just  so  sure  as  you  live,  it  will  sometime  ^ 
shine  on  you.     The  dear  God  has  made  it  so.     There 

I  is  so  much  sun  and  so  much  storm  and  we  must  have 

I  our  share  of  both." 

The  Master's  Violin 


Third 
Bay 


"  When  a  man's  mother  casts  him  off,  when  his  wdfe 
forsakes  him,  when  his  love  betrays  him,  his  dog  stays 
true.  When  he 's  poor  and  his  friends  pass  him  by  on 
the  other  side  of  the  street,  looking  the  other  way,  his 
dog  fares  with  him,  ready  to  starve  for  very  love  of 
him.  'T  is  a  man  and  his  dog,  1  'm  thinking,  against 
the  whole  world." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 
224 


Fourth 
Day 

October  == 


o^ 


"  A  doctor  that  '11  admit  he  don't  know,  when  he 
don't,  instead  of  leavin'  you  to  find  out  by  painful 
experience,  is  not  only  scarce,  but  he  's  to  be  trusted 
when  you  come  across  him." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Fifth 
Bay 


"  It  seems  to  take  a  lifetime  for  us  to  leam  that 
wisdom  consists  largely  in  a  graceful  acceptance  of 
things  that  do  not  immediately  concern  us." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


225 


Sixth 
Day 


Seventh 
Bay 


October 

When  a  man  finds  the  way  to  a  girl's  heart  a 
boulevard,  he  has  taken  the  wrong  road.  When  his 
path  is  easy  and  his  burden  light,  it  is  time  for  him  to 
doubt.  When  his  progress  seems  like  making  a  new 
way  to  the  Klondike,  he  needs  only  to  keep  his  courage 
and  go  on. 

The,  Spinster  Book 


Love  comes  not  to  a  man  as  to  a  woman,  but  rather 
with  the  sound  of  trumpets  and  the  glare  of  white  light. 
The  cloistered  peace  that  fills  her  soul  rests  seldom  upon 
him,  and,  instead,  he  is  stirred  with  high  ambition  and 
spurred  on  to  glorious  achievement.  For,  to  her,  love 
is  the  end  of  life ;  to  him,  it  is  the  means. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 
226 


October 

AN  HOUR  I 

i 
f 

One  little  hour,  caught  from  a  day  of  gold,  [, 

While  fallen  crimson  leaves  were  drifting  deep — * 
A  priceless  jewel,  given  us  to  keep,  '. 

Remembrance  for  a  hungry  heart  to  hold ;  | 

Some  day,  when  all  my  world  is  drear  and  cold 
And  I  toil  upward  on  a  rocky  steep, 
That  hour,  stirring  from  its  age-long  sleep, 

Shall  thrill  my  soul  to  answer  as  of  old. 


if 


But  oh,  your  hands  to  lie  upon  my  hair,  ^ 

Your  heart  to  beat  with  mine,  your  lips  to  touch. 
As  in  the  hour  God  gave  to  you  and  me 
To  ease  the  silent  years  we  both  must  bear ; 
One  little  hour,  since  we  have  loved  so  much — 
A  blinding  instant,  for  Eternity  1 


Eighth 
Day 


111 


Alinth 
Day 


Tenth 
Day 


October 

Other  things  being  equal,  a  married  woman  may  be 
a  dangerous  rival,  having  the  unholy  charm  of  the 
unattainable  and  the  sanction  of  another  man's  choice. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


"  A  woman  has  crossed  the  line  between  youth  and 
maturity  when  she  begins  to  put  away,  in  the  lavender 
of  memory,  the  lovely  things  she  has  had — and  is 
never  to  have  again.  The  after  years  are  made  up,  so 
many  times,  of  things  one  has  had — rounded  off  and 
put  away  forever." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


228 


Eleventh 
Bay 

October  ^""^^^^ 

Love  is  an  orchid  which  thrives  principally  upon  hot 
air. 

**  Marriage  is  a  great  strain  upon  love." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 

Politics  and  poker  make  more  widows  than  war. 

The  Spinster  Book 

Three  things  are  none  of  a    woman's  business — 
politics,  poker,  and  other  women's  husbands. 


229 


Twelfth 
Bay 


October 

"You  have  come  to  buy  wealth?"  he  asked. 
"  We  have  it  for  sale,  but  the  price  of  it  is  your  peace 
of  mind.  For  knowledge,  we  ask  human  sympathy ; 
if  you  take  much  of  it,  you  lose  the  capacity  to  feel 
with  your  fellow-men.  If  you  take  beauty,  you  must 
give  up  your  right  to  love,  and  take  the  risk  of  an 
ignoble  passion  in  its  place.  If  you  want  fame,  you 
must  pay  the  price  of  eternal  loneliness.  For  love,  you 
must  give  self-surrender  and  take  the  hurts  of  it  without 
complaining.  For  health,  you  pay  in  self-denial  and 
right  living.  You  may  take  what  you  like  and  the  bill 
will  be  collected  later,  but  there  is  no  exchange,  and 
you  must  buy  something.  Take  as  long  as  you  wish 
to  choose,  but  you  must  buy  and  you  must  pay." 

The  Master's  Violin 


230 


Thir- 
teenth 

October  ^^^ 

BETWEEN  THE  LIGHTS 

Once,  when  the  first  faint  shadows  came  to  lie 

Upon  the  grass  to  rest  ere  night  should  fall,  { 

While  on  the  hills  the  purple  pines  loomed  tall 
Against  the  glory  of  the  sunset  sky  ; 
When  in  the  afterglow  the  moon  swung  high 

And  roses  dreamed  along  the  garden  wall, 

An  hour  was  yours  and  mine,  and  at  your  call 
My  heart  beat  hard  with  sudden  ecstasy. 

Dear,  unforgotten  hour  between  the  lights. 

Where  have  you  gone  along  Time's  shimmering  way? 
In  vain  I  search  the  desert  and  the  sea  ; 
Come  back  once  more,  to  lead  me  to  the  heights. 
To  give  me  joy  for  just  another  day — 
Oh,  little  golden  hour,  come  back  to  me  I 


231 


Four^ 
teenth 

^^^  October 

**  Do  not  question  Life  too  much.     Accept  it.'* 
\  Master  of  the  Vineyard 

"  How  the  years  separate  and  destroy  and  blot  out 
the  things  that  count  for  the  most ! " 

i  Old  Rose  and  Silver 


"  We  need  sorrow  as  the  world  needs  night — we 
cannot  always  live  in  the  sun."  j 

The  Master's  Violin  j 


232 


Fifteenth 
Day 

October  = 


^ 


No  woman  need  envy  the  Sphinx  her  wisdom  if 
she  has  learned  the  uses  of  silence  and  never  asks  a 
favour  of  a  hungry  man. 

The  Spinster  Book 


Sixteenth 
Day 


To  suit  himself  to  his  environment  when  that  environ- 
ment was  out  of  his  power  to  change,  to  seek  for  the 
good  in  everything  and  resolutely  refuse  to  be  affected 
by  the  bad,  to  believe  steadfastly  in  the  law  of  com- 
pensation— this  was  his  creed. 

The  Masters  Violin 


233 


Seven* 
teenth 
Bay 


Eigh' 
teenth 

Day 


October 

When  a  girl  gives  a  man  furniture,  she  usually 
intends  to  marry  him,  but  often  merely  succeeds  in 
making  things  interesting  for  the  girl  who  does  it  in 
spite  of  her.  The  newly-married  woman  attends  to 
the  personal  belongings  of  her  happy  possessor  with  the 
celerity  which  is  taught  in  classes  for  "First  Aid  to 
the  Injured." 

The  Spinster  Book 


Not  infrequently,  when  a  man  asks  a  woman  to 
marry  him,  he  means  that  he  wants  her  to  help  him 
love  himself,  and  if,  blinded  by  her  own  feeling,  she 
takes  him  for  her  captain,  her  pleasure  craft  becomes  a 
pirate  ship,  the  colours  change  to  a  black  flag  with  a 
sinister  sign,  and  her  inevitable  destiny  is  the  coral  reef. 


The  Spinster  Book 


234 


^line' 
teenth 

October  ^ 

A  Bohemian  is  a  person  to  whom  the  luxuries  of 
life  are  necessities,  and  the  necessities  luxuries. 

"  What  's  the  use  of  being  alive  unless  you  can 
live  ?  " 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 

If  it  be  a  fine  art  to  w^ear  your  best  clothes  uncon- 
sciously, it  is  a  still  finer  art  to  w^ear  your  old  clothes  as 
though  they  were  your  best  ones. 

The  most  needless  worry  in  which  we  indulge  is 
regardmg  our  funeral  expenses.  If  our  friends  don't 
bury  us,  the  health  department  will. 


235 


Tweti' 
tieth 

^^y  October 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  a  being  divine  enough  to  be 
a  God  could  be  human  enough  to  cherish  so  fiendish 
a  passion  as  revenge." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


Twenty* 
first 

Day 


"Forgive  me,"   from  a   man*s   lips,  indicates   the 
uttermost  depths  of  abasement  and  devotion. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


236 


October 

CROWNED 

I  hear  no  coronation  hymns  ascend 

Where  loyal  peoples  marble  arches  raise ; 

Within  no  palace  halls  I  pass  my  days, 
Before  my  throne  no  lords  and  ladies  bend. 
No  trumpet-tongued  salutes  my  paths  attend, 

Nor  cries  of  silver  bugles  sound  my  praise ; 

For  me  no  fires  of  splendid  triumph  blaze, 
I  have  no  mighty  kmgdom  to  defend. 

Yet  I  am  royal,  for  thy  lips  have  said : 

"  My  queen,  I  love  thee  even  more  than  life. 
And  my  believing  heart  to  thee  I  bring. 
So  hast  thou  placed  a  aown  upon  my  head 

And  brought  me  purple  with  the  name  of  wife. 
Because  thou  art  my  lover  and  my  king. 

Sonnets  to  a  Lover 


Twenty' 
second 

Day 


237 


Twenty 

third 

Day 


October 


Twenty^ 
fourth 

Day 


Of 

"Did  you  ever  stop  to  think  that  the  millennium 
could  be  brought  about  in  less  than  one  hour,  if  each 
did  his  own  work  well  and  in  a  spirit  of  love  ?  " 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


"A  woman  with  much  marryin*  experience  soon 
learns  not  to  rile  a  husband  when  't  ain't  necessary. 
Sometimes  I  think  the  poor  creeters  has  enough  to  con- 
tend with  outside  without  bein   obliged  to   fight  at 


lome. 


At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o* -Lantern 


238 


Twenty^ 
fifth 

October  ^"^ 

at 

"  If  women  could  n't  cry,  they  'd  explode." 

Lavender  and  Old  Lace 

A  woman  will  forgive  a  man  anything  except  dis- 
loyalty to  herself. 

The  Spinster  Book 

A  man's  greatest  punishment  is  to  be  a  fool  and 
know  it ;  a  woman's,  to  have  her  charm  fail. 


239 


Twenty' 
sixth 

^<^y  October 

"  We  all  have  trouble,  dearie — it  *s  part  of  life,  but 
I  believe  that  we  all  share  equally  in  the  joy  of  the 
world.     Allowing  for  temperament,  I  mean.     Sorrows 

I  that  would  crush  some  are  lightly  borne  by  others,  and 

I   some  have  the  gift  of  finding  new  happiness  in  little 

I  things. 

I  "  Then,  too,  we  never  have  any  more  than  we  can 
bear — nothing  that  has  not  been  borne  before  and 
bravely  at  that.  There  is  n't  a  new  sorrow  in  the 
world — they  're  all  old  ones — but  we  can  all  find  new 
happiness  if  we  look  for  it  in  the  right  way." 

Lavender  and  Old  Lace 


240 


Twenty^ 
seventh 


October  ^ 

JUST  FOR  TO-DAY 

Down  where  the  ripened  grain  waits  for  the  reaping. 

And  the  slanting  gold  sunbeams  in  tracery  shine, 
Through  the  aisles  where  the  wheat-shaded  poppies  are  sleepmg. 

Lead  me  once  more  with  my  hand  close  in  thine. 
Let  us  forget  we  have  walked  in  the  shadow. 

Say  the  dezu*  words  on  the  goldenrod  way. 
Fare  we  together  afar  through  the  meadow — 

Lean  on  my  heart  again,  just  for  to-day  I 

Down  where  the  harvest  fields,  shorn  of  their  treasure. 

Wear  a  new  grace  in  the  afternoon  sun, 
And  wine-cups,  purplmg,  in  generous  measure, 

Shine  with  the  lace  tiny  weavers  have  spun. 
Lead  me,  enchanted,  my  wounded  heart  singing. 

Back  through  October  to  love-laden  May, 
When  passionate,  tender,  thy  dear  arms  were  clinging — 

Ah !  let  me  dream  again,  just  for  to-day  I 

Down  where  the  fallow  field,  garnered,  forsaken. 
Grieves  for  its  harvest-child,  dying  apart. 

Let  the  old  faith,  unfaltering,  awaken 
Just  for  a  moment,  deep  in  my  heart ; 

The  wasted  years  crush  out  the  dark  wine  of  sorrow. 
Afar  in  the  brambles  my  weary  feet  stray ; 

Dear  God !  I  shall  journey  with  new  strength  to-morrow- 
Let  me  believe  again,  just  for  to-day  I 


241 


Twenty^ 
eighth 

^"^y  October 

"  Walls  have  not  only  ears,  but  telephones." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

When  Gossip  takes  snuff,  Friendship  sneezes. 

A  good  forgettery  is  a  happier  possession  than  a 
good  memory. 

The  balance  between  foresight  and  retrospection 
has  seldom  been  exact. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern. 


242 


Twenty- 
ninth 


October  ^ 

Adversity  has  no  terrors  for  a  woman ;  she  will 
gladly  share  misfortune  with  the  man  she  loves,  but 
simple  selfishness  is  a  very  different  proposition. 

The  Spinster  BooJ^ 


Thirtieth 
Day 


He  understood — he  always  did.  He  was  one  of; 
the  few  men  who  are  not  dense  in  their  comprehension! 
of  womankind.  i 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


243 


Thirty 
first 

"^  October 

cat 

She  had  learned  the  bitterness  of  the  woman's  part 
— to  stand  by,  utterly  lonely,  and  dream,  and  wait, 
while  men  achieve. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  J ack-o' -Lantern 

A  man  will  make  a  comrade  of  the  woman  who 
stimulates  him  to  higher  achievement,  but  he  vyall  love 
the  one  who  makes  herself  a  mirror  for  his  conceit. 

The  Spinster  Book 


244 


November 


INDIAN  SUMMER 

A  purple  haze  lies  on  the  distant  hill 

And  fallow  fields  an  alien  beauty  wear ; 

There  seems  mysterious  promise  in  the  air 
Which  passing  Summer  Imgers  to  fulfil. 
The  silvery  music  of  the  tinkling  rill 

Has  died  away  as  if  in  silent  prayer ; 

The  winds  have  left  the  murmuring  maples  bare 
And  all  the  woodland  ways  are  strangely  still. 

December  waits,  with  winding  sheets  of  snow, 
And  that  fair  field,  athrill  to  Autumn's  kiss, 
A  sleeper  in  an  uiunarked  grave  shall  be ; 
They  say  love  has  its  seasons ;  even  so 
The  Winter  in  my  heart  must  be  like  this, 

Because  through  Summer  I  have  walked  with  thee. 

Sonnets  to  a  Lover 


246 


First 
Bay 

November  === 

cat 

I      "  It  is  only  little  loves  and  friendships  that  forgetj 
One  does  not  need  those  ties  which  can  be  broken." 

The  Master's  Violin 

There  is  a  common  feminine  delusion  to  the  effect 
that  men  need  "  encouragement,"  and  there  is  no  term 
which  is  more  misused.  A  fool  may  need  "  encourage- 
ment," but  the  man  who  wants  a  girl  will  go  after  her, 
regardless  of  obstacles. 

The  Spinster  Book 


247 


Second 
Bay 


November 

"  Sincerity  always  has  a  charm  of  its  own.  Even 
when  two  men  are  fighting,  you  are  compelled  to 
admire  their  earnestness  and  singleness  of  purpose." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Third 
Bay 


It  is  personal  vanity  of  the  most  flagrant  type  which 
intrudes  itself,  unasked,  into  other  people's  affairs.  There 
are  few  of  us  who  do  not  feel  capable  of  ordering  the 
daily  lives  of  others,  down  to  the  most  minute  detail. 

The  Spinster  Book 


248 


Fourth 
Day 


November 

"  Life  is  the  pitch  of  the  orchestra  and  we  are  the 
instruments.  .  .  .  The  discord  and  the  broken 
string  of  the  individual  instrument  do  not  affect  the 
whole,  except  as  false  notes,  but  I  think  that  God, 
knowing  all  things,  must  discern  the  symphony,  glorious 
with  meaning,  through  the  discordant  fragments  that  we 
play." 

The  Master's  Violin 


Fifth 
Day 


Opportunity  is  but  another  name  for  health,  obstacles 
make  firm  stepping-stones,  and  that  which  is  dearly 
bought  is  by  far  the  sweetest  in  the  end. 

The  Spinster  Book 


249 


Sixth 
Bay 


November 


^ 


THE  LOOM  OF  LIFE 

I  Beside  the  loom  of  Life  I  sit,  at  dawn  of  day, 
I  To  weave  my  bright-hued  hopes  within  a  web  of  grey ; 
\     Nor  shade  nor  shadow  clouds  the  light 
1         Beside  my  loom — 

i  The  day  climbs  high,  but  I  heed  not — a-dreaming  yet 
I  Of  royal  fabrics  I  shall  own  ere  sun  be  set, 
I  straighten  oft  the  tangled  skein 
Within  my  loom. 

*T  is  noon !     With  terror  I  perceive  that  my  design 
Is  following,  with  steady  Fate,  no  wish  of  mme ; 
I  cry  aloud,  but  no  one  hears, 
Beyond  my  loom. 
Half-fainting,  yet  I  still  work  on  because  I  must, 
With  threads  of  tarnished  gold  I  mark  a  buried  trust ; 
Oh,  Hand  of  Doubt,  why  weavest  thou 
Within  my  loom  ? 


The  shadows  fall.     With  knotted  thread  my  woof  is  made,/ 
No  skill  of  mme  can  ever  change  its  sombre  shade. 
But  yet  I  pray,  with  trembling  lips. 
Beside  my  loom; 
Then  night,  and  with  a  sudden  snap  the  laist  threads  part ; 
But  in  that  broken  tissue  lies  a  woman's  hecirt — 
Fit  tapestry  to  offer  Him 
Who  made  the  loom. 


\ 


250 


Seventh 
Day 

November  = 


oM? 


Some  people,  who  are  unhappy  themselves,  are  so 
constituted  that  they  can't  bear  to  see  anybody  else 
happy.  I 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


Eighth 
Day 


Forgetting  is  the  finest  art  of  life  and  is  to  be  desired 
more  than  memory,  even  though  Mnemosyne  stands 
close  by  Lethe  and  with  her  dewy  finger-tips  soothes 
away  all  pain.  The  lowest  life  remembers — to  the 
highest  only  is  it  given  to  forget. 

The  Spinster  Book 


251 


J\[inth 
Day 


November 

A  woman  is  said  to  be  weak  when  she  is  not 
strong  enough  to  resist  temptation  for  two. 

Orthodoxy  is  the  perfectly  just  judgment  condemn- 
ing a  woman  to  everlasting  punishment  for  the  sin 
which,  in  the  case  of  a  man,  is  entered  on  the  record- 
ing angel's  books  as  "  Wild  oats ;  nolle  prosse.'* 

"  Passion  is  n*t  love,  any  more  than  hunger  is,  but  an 
earthbound  world  seldom  sees  above  the  fog  of  sense.'* 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


252 


Tenth 
Day 

November  ^^"^^ 

At  night,  the  soul  claims  its  own — its  right  to  suffer 
for  its  secret  sins,  its  shirking,  its  betrayals. 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


Eleventh 
Day 

A  widow  has  all  the  freedom  of  a  girl  combined 
with  the  liberty  of  a  married  woman.  She  has  the 
secure  social  position  of  a  matron  without  the  drawback 
of  a  husband.  She  is  nearer  absolute  independence 
than  other  women  are  ever  known  to  be. 

The  Spinster  BooJ^ 


253 


Twelfth 
Bay 


) 


November 

Lx)ve  is  first  a  shield  and  then  an  uplifting. 

hove.  Letters  of  a  Musician 

A  man  likes  to  feel  that  he  is  loved — a  woman  likes 
to  be  told. 

The  Spinster  Book 

"  A  woman  can  see  more  in  one  minute  than  a  man  I 
can  see  in  sixty." 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


254 


Thin 
tee  nth 


November  ^">' 


c2f 

ROSEMARY  FOR  REMEMBRANCE 

Full-flowered  Summer  lay  upon  the  land 
That  day  I  stood  upon  the  shore  with  you, 
Beside  a  waving  plain  of  meadow-rue — 
A  bit  of  crushed  rosemary  in  my  hand. 

"  See,  sweetheart,  for  remembrance  !  "     Ah,  the  days 

When  Life's  young  music  answered  fingers  such 
As  Love  put  on  the  keys  !     And  who  could  dream 
Rosemary  and  remembrance  meant  so  much ! 

Across  the  time  of  stress  that  lies  between, 

That  single  day  seems  fraught  with  portent  now ; 
The  river's  voice  was  sad,  and,  knowing  how 
The  meadow-rue  was  blossoming  unseen, 
1  cannot  wonder  that  I  stand  alone 

Where  sea  and  river  meet.     The  sky  is  grey. 
And  with  majestic  might  of  endless  years 
The  surf  beats  cold  upon  my  heart  to-day. 

But  still  within  my  saddened  soul  there  lies 

A  voiceless  chamber,  sweet  with  precious  things — \ 

Rosemary,  spikenard,  and  rue  that  brings  j 

The  tender  tears  unbidden  to  my  eyes.  | 

I  stand  outside  and  only  look,  because  | 

My  treasures  are  too  frail  for  hands  to  touch. 
For  Love  is  brief,  but  Life — ah,  Life  is  long !     1 
Rosemary  cind  remembrance  mean  so  much ! 


255 


Four' 
teenth 

^"^y  November 


^ 


A  man  is  more  apt  to  die  of  broken  vanity  than  of 
a  broken  heart. 


The  man  in  love  with  himself  need  fear  no  woman 
as  a  rival. 

At  twenty,  men  love  woman ;  at  thirty,  a  woman ; 
and  at  forty,  women. 

The  Spinster  Boof^ 


256 


Fifteenth 
Bay 

November 

"  A  man  who  has  failed  to  do  the  work  that  lies 
nearest  his  hand  is  not  likely  to  succeed  at  anything 
else." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Sixteenth 
Bay 


We  grow  through  the  world  with  all  its  darkness,  \ 
borne  upward  by  unfailing  aspiration,  until  we  reach 
the  end,  which  we  have  been  taught  to  call  Heaven, 
but  wliich  is  only  blossoming  in  the  light. 

The  Master's  Violin 


257 


Seven* 
teenth 
Day 


November 


OSt 


UNSATISFIED 

My  thoughts  to  yours,  across  the  miles  between, 
Divided  though  we  are  by  more  than  space ; 
Remembrance,  most  divine,  brings  back  your  face 

And  blots  out  all  the  days  that  intervene. 

My  dreams  to  yours,  when,  silent  and  serene. 

The  midnight  stars  sweep  toward  their  destined  place 
And,  at  the  fiery  dawning,  leave  no  trace 

Of  heavenly  trysts  unbroken — and  unseen. 

My  soul  to  yours,  in  answer  to  your  call, 

Through  night  and  space  and  time  forevermore 
Smce  even  unto  death  true  love  endures ; 
Yet  still  I  ache  with  longing,  and  for  all 
The  tender  sweetness  of  the  day  before — 
Your  lips  to  mine,  and  oh,  my  heart  to  yours  I 


258 


Eigh' 
teenth 

November  ^^ 


The  man  who  hesitates  may  be  lost,  but  the  woman 
who  hesitates  is  surely  won. 

The  Spinster  Book 


The  average  woman  prefers  being  idealised  to  being 
understood. 


The  wounds  of  Love  are  quickest  healed  by  another 
dart  from  his  arrow. 


259 


J\[ine' 
teenth 

Bay 


November 

"Actions,  to  my  mind,  are  a  good  deal  more  im- 
portant than  beliefs." 

The  Shadow  of  Victory  j 


Religion  is  like  medicine — ^it  is  the  overdose  that 
neutralises. 


People  say  that  they  "  know  the  world  "  when  their 
acquaintance  is  limited  to  the  flesh  and  the  devil. 


260 


Twen- 
tieth 

November  Day^ 

A  man's  heart  is  an  office  desk  wherein  tender  epi- 
sodes are  pigeon-holed  for  future  reference.  If  he  is 
too  busy  to  look  them  over,  they  are  carried  off  later 
in  Father  Time's  junk-waggon  like  other  and  more 
profane  history. 

The  Spinster  Bool^ 


Twenty^ 
first 

Day 


It  is  woman's  tendency  to  make  the  best  of  what  she 
has,  and  man's  to  reach  out  for  what  he  has  not.  Man 
spends  his  life  in  the  effort  to  realise  the  ideals  which, 
like  will-o'-the-wisps,  hover  just  beyond  him.  Woman, 
on  the  contrary,  brings  into  her  life  what  grace  she 
may,  by  idealising  her  reals. 

The  Spinster  Book 
261 


Twenty' 
second 

^^  November 

An  insufficient  excuse  is  the  crutch  of  a  crippled  love. 

Marriage  is  the  process  by  which  a  woman  deprives 
herself  of  an  escort. 

A  man  who  expects  to  do  all  of  his  v^fe's  thinking 
might  as  well  marry  a  fool. 

The  divorce  court  is  the  matrimonial  waste-basket. 


262 


Twenty- 
third 


November  ^^y 


"Greatness  comes  slowly  and  by  difficult  steps — 
not  by  leaps  and  bounds.  You  must  learn  the  multi- 
plication table  before  you  can  be  an  astronomer." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 


Twenty^ 
fourth 

Day 


Love  which  needs  to  be  put  behind  prison  bars  that 
it  may  not  escape  is  not  love,  but  attraction,  fascination, 
or  whatever  the  psychologists  may  please.  A  man 
chooses  his  wife,  not  because  there  are  no  other 
women,  but  in  spite  of  them.  It  is  a  pathetic 
acknowledgment  of  his  poor  judgment  if  he  lets  the 
world  suspect  that  his  choice  was  wrong. 

The  Spinster  Book 


263 


Twenty' 
fifth 

^^y  November 

"  If  you  ever  love  a  man,  never  let  him  doubt  you — 
always  let  him  be  sure.  There  is  so  much  in  a  man's 
world  that  a  woman  knows  nothing  of.  When  he 
comes  home  at  night,  tired  beyond  words,  and  sick  to 
death  of  the  world  and  its  ways,  make  him  sure. 
When  he  thinks  himself  defeated,  make  him  sure. 
When  you  see  him  tempted  to  swerve  even  the  least 
from  the  straight  path,  make  him  sure.  When  the 
last  parting  comes,  if  he  is  leaving  you,  give  him  the 
certainty  to  take  with  him  into  his  narrow  house  and 
make  his  last  sleep  sweet.  And  if  you  are  the  one  to 
go  first  and  leave  him  old  and  desolate  and  stricken, 
make  him  sure  then,  oh,  make  him  very  sure ! " 

Flower  of  the  Dusk, 


264 


Twenty' 
sixth 


November  £f^ 


alt 

"  Advice  is  as  free  as  salvation  is  said  to  be." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 

A  large  part  of  the  beauty  of  giving  is  in  the  wrench 
it  costs  us  to  let  go  of  the  gift. 

According  to  the  quality  of  the  waters  upon  which 
we  cast  our  bread,  it  returns  water-logged  and  uneat- 
able, or  spread  with  butter  and  jam. 


265 


Twenty' 
seventh 

Bay  November 


at 

Money  may  not  buy  happiness,  but  it  will  secure  an 
imitation  pleasing  to  most  people. 

"  When  people  are  in  trouble,  they  usually  want 
either  money  or  sympathy,  or  both." 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 

If   only  the   finer   things    of   the    spirit   could   be 
bequeathed,  like  material  possessions  ! 

Flower  of  the  DusI^ 


266 


Twenty* 
eighth 

November  R^ 


Death  himself  is  powerless  against  love,  when  a 
heart  is  deep  enough  to  hold  a  grave. 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 

"  Don't  be  afraid  of  anything — poverty,  sickness,  or 
death,  or  any  suffering  God  vsdll  let  you  bear  together. 
That  is  n't  love — to  be  afraid." 

Lavender  and  Old  Lace 


267 


Twenty* 

ninth 

Day 


November 

cat 

"  Why,  you  could  take  your  heart  in  the  hollow  of 
your  hand,  it  is  so  little  a  thing,  and  yet  all  the  trouble 
in  the  world  arises  from  it.  There  is  room  enough  for 
all  our  joy,  but  it  is  neither  wide  enough  nor  deep 
enough  to  hold  our  pain." 

Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 


Thirtieth 
Day 


We  should  not  fear  that  someone  might  take  our 
place  in  the  heart  that  loves  us  best — if  we  were  only 
loved  enough.  The  same  love  is  never  given  twice ;  it 
differs  in  quality  if  not  in  degree,  and  when  once  made 
one's  own,  is  never  to  be  lost. 

The  Spinster  Bool^ 


268 


AFTERWARD 

When  Death's  white  poppies  rest  upon  my  eyes, 

As  if  my  last  rebellion  He  forgave ; 

When  through  the  transept  and  the  vaulted  nave 
The  solemn  measures  of  my  requiem  rise, 
Think  not  that  in  the  dust  before  thee  lies 

Thy  heart  of  hearts,  beyond  thy  strength  to  save 

From  secret  hiding  in  a  distant  grave, 
For  thou  hast  still  the  love  that  never  dies. 

So  kneel  beside  me,  Dearest,  w^ith  thy  palm 
Laid  on  my  face  in  that  old  tenderness 

Too  great  for  w^ords,  since  there  is  no  regret 
*Twixt  thee  and  me ;  and  when  the  chanted  psalm 
Has  softly  changed  to  prayer  and  holmess. 
Think  not,  oh  soul  of  mine,  that  I  forget ! 

Sonnets  to  a  Lover 


270 


First 
Day 

Hecember  = 

cat 

The  stern  law  of  compensation,  which  Is  not  to  be 
defied,  seems  to  be  constantly  working  against  a 
monopoly  of  happiness.  When  rearing  Spanish  castles 
upon  the  frail  foundation  of  day-dreams,  we  are  wont 
to  wish  for  various  things — for  wealth,  beauty,  love, 
and  fame — forgetting  that  these  things  are  not  in  them- 
selves happiness  and  are  not  always  a  means  to  that 
desirable  end. 

LoX)e  Affairs  of  Literary  Men 


271 


Second 
Day 


December 


e/i^ 


Conventionality  is  the  sop  which  individuality  throws 
to  society. 

The    conventionalities  are   woman's    friends — and 
man's  enemies. 

When  we  speak  of  "  a  delicate  situation,"  we  usu- 
ally mean  indelicate. 

His  sympathy  is  the  most  dangerous  gift  a  man  can 
offer  a  woman. 


272 


Third 
Day 

December  = 

He  had  never  given  up  anything  simply  because  it 
was  difficult. 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 

"  If  it 's  your  work,  why  not  do  it  better  than  any- 
body else  does  it  ?  " 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 

"  People  usually  get  things  if  they  want  them  badly 
enough." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


273 


Fourth 
Bay 


December 

A  HOUSE  BLESSING 

Now  blessings  be  upon  your  house, 

Your  roof  and  hearth  and  walls ; 
May  there  be  lights  to  welcome  you 

When  evening's  shadow  falls  ; 
The  love  that,  like  a  guiding  star. 

Still  signals  while  you  roam — 
A  book,  a  hiend — these  be  the  things 

That  make  a  house  a  home. 


274 


Fifth 
Day 

December 

Young  men  believe  platonic  friendship  possible- 


old  men  know  better — but  when  one  man  learns  to 
profit  by  the  experience  of  another,  we  may  look  for 
mosquitoes  at  Christmas  and  holly  in  June. 

The  Spinster  Book 


Sixth 
Bay 


Flirtation  is  the  only  game  in  which  it  is  advisable 
and  popular  to  trump  one's  partner's  ace. 

The  Spinster  Book 


275 


Seventh 
Bay 


December 

There  is  a  reaction  after  every  pain — a  sort  of  blessed 
calm  that  is  almost  Paradise. 

Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 

Sometimes,  out  of  bittemess,  the  years  distil  forgive- 
ness. 

Lavender  and  Old  Lace 

The  ways  of  the  Everlasting  are  not  our  ways,  and 
life  is  made  up  of  waiting. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


276 


Eighth 
Bay 

December  "^""^"^^ 

Self-pity  is  the  first  step  toward  relief  from  over- 
powering sorrow.  When  detachment  is  possible,  the 
long,  slow  healing  has  faintly  but  surely  begun. 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


J\[inth 
Day 


Marriage  appears  to  be  somewhat  like  a  grape. 
People  swallow  a  great  deal  of  indifferent  good  for  the 
sake  of  the  lurking  bit  of  sweetness,  and  never  know 
until  it  is  too  late  whether  the  venture  was  wise. 

The  Spinster  Book 


277 


Tenth 
Day 


December 

MY  LADY'S  GOWN 

My  lady's  gown  Is  grey  and  soft, 

So  like  her  eyes 
That  from  its  silken  folds  there  comes 

A  hint  of  Paradise. 
I  hold  it  close  against  my  heart — 

My  lady's  gown ! 

The  while  she  hummed  a  little  song 

I  saw  her  lay 
This  bit  of  lace  around  her  throat ; 

Dear  eyes  of  grey ! 
So  serious  in  fashioning 

My  lady's  gown ! 

My  lady's  gown  is  folded  now  ; 

The  knot  of  blue 
Upon  her  breast  is  passing  sweet 

With  lavender  and  rue  ; 
It  brings  me  dreams  of  bygone  days — 

My  lady's  gown ! 


To-day  I  see  the  little  gown 

With  brimming  eyes, 
For  out  upon  the  grass-grown  hill 

My  lady  lies, 
And  with  despairing  sobs  I  kiss 

My  lady's  gown ! 

278 


Eleventh 
Day 

December  '''^'^'^^'^^ 

Resignation  is  an  angel  with  clipped  wings. 

The  happiness  of  duty  is  in  every  creed,  but  the 
duty  of  happiness  is  seldom  taught. 

"  Nothing  in  the  world  was  ever  built  without  a 
dream  at  the  beginning." 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 


279 


Twelfth 
Bay 


December 

"When  needles  fly,  women*s  tongues  fly  faster; 
while  women  sew,  they  rip  their  husbands  to  pieces. ' 

The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"  There  was  a  great  deal  of  excitement  at  first,  but 
it  dies  down.  Most  things  die  down,  my  dear,  if  we 
give  them  time." 

The  Master's  Violin 

It  is  n't  what  he  does  n  t  know  that  troubles  a  man, 
but  what  he  knows  he  does  n't  know. 

The  Spinster  Book 


280 


December 

"  Whatever  a  Day  may  bring  you,  whatever  terrible 
gifts  of  w^oe,  if  you  search  her  closely,  you  will  always 
find  the  strength  to  meet  her  face  to  face." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


teenth 
Day 


Four' 
teenth 

Day 


"The  milk  of  human  kindness"  seldom  produces 
cream,  but  there  is  only  one  way  by  which  love  may 
be  won  or  kept.  Perfection  means  a  continual  shifting 
of  standards  and  must  ever  be  unattainable,  but  the 
man  or  woman  who  is  simply  lovable  will  be  wholly 
taken  into  other  hearts,  faults  and  all. 

The  Spinster  Boof^ 

281 


Fifteenth 
Day 


Sixteenth 
Bay 


December 

"  Life  has  many  meanings,  but  it  is  what  we  make 
it,  after  all.     The  pendulum  swings  from  daylight  to 

darkness,  from  sun  to  storm,  but  the  balance  is  always 

»• 

true. 

The  Master's  Violin 


All  the  wars  have  been  caused  by  one  set  of  people 
trying  to  force  their  opinions  upon  another  set,  who  did 
not  desire  to  have  their  minds  changed. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk, 


282 


Seven' 
teenth 


December  ^""y 


a$ 


**  Pleasure  is  the  unsought  joy.  If  you  go  out  to  hunt 
for  it,  you  don  t  often  get  it.  When  you  do,  you  've 
earned  it,  and  are  entitled  to  it.  True  pleasure  is  a 
free  gift  of  the  gods,  like  a  sense  of  humour." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


In  order  to  be  happy,  a  woman  needs  only  a  good 
digestion,  a  satisfactory  complexion,  and  a  lover.  The 
first  requirement  being  met,  the  second  is  not  difficult  to 
obtain,  and  the  third  follows  as  a  matter  of  course. 

The  Spinster  Book 


283 


Elgh» 

teenth 

Bay 


December 


c^ 


I  A  DEATH-SONG 

5C00I  ground,  cool  ground,  tell  me  where  your  stairway  is ; 

s      Through  what  passage  does  it  lead,  death-damp  with  dew  ? 

'  Wmd-voice  in  the  hollow,  calling  me  to  follow — 

;;     Love,  let  me  dream  to-night,  in  the  earth  with  you ! 

t 

|Blind  rain,  blind  rain,  beat  not  coldly  on  her — 
\     Still  face  whitely  turned  to  the  grey  grass  growing ; 
(Cold  hands  with  violets,  do  you  think  that  she  forgets  ? 
\     Hark,  how  the  wmd-voice  calls  me  with  its  blowing ! 

^  North  Wind,  North  Wmd,  disturb  not  her  hair  to-night. 

Long,  soft  threads  of  brown  I  sigh  for  in  vain ; 
;  Sweet  lips  are  dead  now  and  under  the  willow-bough 
;      My  kiss  avails  not  nor  my  arms  again. 

Green  leaves,  green  leaves,  hush  your  gentle  murmurmg, 
j      Lest  your  sound  awaken  her  whose  decir  hezurt  I  keep ; 
:Qosed  by  thy  brown  eyes,  my  lost  Paradise, 
I      Lost  Love,  dead  Love,  peaceful  be  thy  sleep  1 


{Cool  ground,  cool  ground,  tell  me  where  your  stairway  is ; 
\     Through  what  passage  does  it  lead,  death-damp  with  dew  ? 
Wind-voice  in  the  hollow,  calling  me  to  follow — 
;      Love,  let  me  dream  to-night,  in  the  earth  with  you  I 


284 


teenth 

December  ^"^ 

Temperament  is  the  angle  of  vision. 

Inspiration  is  a  flash-light ;  an  idea,  a  time-exposure. 

If  genius  could  write  legibly,  it  would  not  always  be 
misunderstood. 

Books  and  letters  are  the  things  that  endure,  in  a 
world  of  transition  and  decay. 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


285 


tieth 

i>ay  December 


^ 


"Is  it  more  than  a  year  from  bud  to  bud,  from 
flower  to  flower,  from  fruit  to  fruit?  *Tis  God's 
way  of  showing  that  a  year  of  darkness  is  enough — at 
a  time." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 


286 


Twenty- 
first 

December  ^^^ 


«29 


Adversity  is  commonly  accepted  as  the  test  of  friend- 
ship, but  there  is  another  more  certain  still — success. 
Any  one  may  bestow  pity.  It  is  fatally  easy  to  offer  to 
those  less  fortunate  than  ourselves ;  whose  capabilities 
have  not  proved  adequate,  as  ours  have,  but  it  requires 
fine  gilts  of  generous  feeling  to  be  genuinely  glad  at 
another's  good  fortune,  in  which  we  cannot  by  any 
possibility  hope  to  share. 

The  Spinster  BooT^ 


287 


Twenty' 
second 

^^^  December 

Activity  is  a  sovereign  remedy  for  the  blues. 

Master  of  the  Vineyard 

In    contemplating    vv^hat   vv^e   do   for    others,   we 
frequently  lose  sight  of  what  others  do  for  us. 

The  mere  accident  of  relationship  does  not  give  one 
the  right  to  be  insulting. 


288 


Twenty^ 
third 


December  ^ 


That  life  alone  is  worth  the  living  which  sets  itself 
upon  the  upland  ways.  To  steel  one's  self  against  joy 
to  be  spared  the  inevitable  hurt,  is  not  life.  We  are 
afraid  of  love,  because  the  might  and  terror  of  it  has 
sometimes  brought  despair.  We  are  afraid  of  belief, 
because  our  trust  has  been  betrayed.  We  are  afraid 
of  death,  because  we  have  seen  forgetfulness. 

The  Spinster  Book 


289 


Twenty' 
fourth 

Day 


December 

"  There  *s  never  no  use  in  argyin'  with  a  husband 
and  never  no  need  to,  'cause  if  you  're  set  on  it,  there 's 
all  the  rest  of  the  world  to  choose  from." 

At  the  Sign  of  the  Jack-o* -Lantern 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  a  woman  loses  her 
lover.  One  is  by  marrying  him,  and  the  other  by 
retaining  him  as  her  friend. 

The  Spinster  Book 


290 


Twenty* 
fifth 

December  ^^^ 

See  how  the  Knight  of  Castle  Christmas  awakes 
the  world !  Hatred  dies,  malice  is  forgotten,  and  dis- 
trust is  dead.  The  discords  of  life  are  resolved  into 
harmony,  and  the  spirit  of  giving  sets  the  soul  alight 
with  generous  fire. 

Later  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 


Twenty* 
sixth 

Bay 


"  There  is  always  joy,  though  sometimes  it  is  sadly 
covered  up  with  other  things.  We  must  find  it  and 
divide  it,  for  only  in  that  way  it  grows." 

Flower  of  the  Dusk 


291 


Twenty' 
seventh 

^''^  December 

Nothing  sickens  a  man  of  his  pet  theory  like  seeing 
it  in  of>eration. 

The  Spinster  Book 

"  Inconsistency  goes  as  far  toward  making  life  attrac- 
tive as  its  pleasures  do  toward  spoiling  it." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 

A  great  many  men  are  so  broad-minded  that  it 
makes  their  heads  flat. 

The  Spinster  Book 


292 


Twenty^ 
eighth 

"December  ^^^ 

THE  BLIND  WEAVER   , 

The  great  wheel  turns,  «uid  through  my  hands 
I  feel  the  swift  threads  run ; 

My  sightless  eyes  can  never  see 

In  Wcirp  and  woof  of  tapestry 
The  tissue  Fate  has  spun  ; 
I  know  not  what  I  blindly  weave. 
And  yet  I  dumbly  pray 

That  when  the  shadows  closer  creep 

Some  bit  of  beauty  I  may  keep 
For  all  the  toiling  day. 

Sometimes  the  thread  is  silken  soft 
As  thistle-down  afield ; 

I  tremble — is  it  Love  at  last  ? 

A  light  for  vision  overcast — 
And  has  my  heart  a  shield  ? 
The  wheel  weuts  not,  and  I  toil  on 
Along  the  vast  design  ; 

From  coarse  to  fine  the  woof-threads  range — 

Ah,  foolish  one,  they  shall  not  change 
For  wish  nor  prayer  of  thine ! 

The  night  draws  near.     My  tired  soul 
Is  rent  with  sudden  fears ; 

The  wheel  is  still — the  broken  thread 
That  through  my  weary  fingers  sped 
Is  rough  and  stained  with  tears. 
My  bleeding  hands,  I  know,  have  grjisped 
A  web  of  sombre  hue ~ 

Pass  not  the  sightless  weaver  by ! 
Oh,  Meister,  chide  me  not,  for  I 
Have  done  ais  best  I  knew ! 
293 


Twenty 
ninth 

^^^  December 

at 

A  minister  is  a  moral  policeman. 

"  Nothing  is  bad  which  does  not  harm  either  you 
or  someone  else." 

A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 

"How  strange  it  is  that  life  must  be  nearly  over, 
before  one  fully  learns  to  live  !  " 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


294 


Thirtieth 
Day 

December  ^^^ 

Men,  like  cats,  need  only  to  be  stroked  in  the  right 
direction. 

The  Spinster  Bool^ 


**  Men  keep  best  in  a  cool,  dry  atmosphere." 

Old  Rose  and  Silver 


Men  follow  each  other  like  sheep  in  matters  of  the 
heart. 

The  Spinster  Book 


295 


Thirty^ 
first 

^""y  December 


t^ 


There  is  a  little  phrase  which  seems  to  me  to  hold 
all  the  sweetness  of  the  lilac,  and  its  inmost  meaning  is 
beyond  translation.  Sometimes  it  brings  a  vision  of  the 
early  Summer,  before  the  freshness  of  Spring  is  quite 
gone — some  parting  which  is  not  farewell.  It  is  only 
to  be  used  by  those  who  love. 
\  And  so,  "  auf  wiedersehen." 

Later  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician 


296 


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